Criminal
by nhsweetcherry
Summary: Why is this man following the Thunderbirds, and what does he want with Gordon?
1. Chapter 1

_Please note that this story is COMPLETE; I am just posting it in serial format._

 _I do not own the Thunderbirds, and I am making no profit from this story. This disclaimer applies to all the following chapters as well._

 _Mexico_

 _March 7_

 _9:56 AM_

Gordon guided Thunderbird Four up through the surface of the underground river, sending waves splashing up onto a nearby rocky shoreline. "Thunderbird Five, I've reached the cave," he said. "I've got one life sign showing on my scanners."

He paused a moment, and when there wasn't a reply, said, "John? Do you read me?" He scowled at the controls. "Great. No signal. Well, okay, then. Guess I'm on my own." He put Four on standby and climbed out through the hatch, jumping nimbly over to the shore. He glanced around, sighing as he realized that stalactites hung from the ceiling, blocking his view. Illuminated only by Four's harsh light, the rock formations cast long shadows back into the blackness of the cave, which could make it hard for him to find his victim. Well, he'd just have to do the best he could, and hope his brothers weren't too stressed by his radio silence.

He took a couple steps forward, and then paused, shivering slightly, as he suddenly got the distinct feeling that he was being watched. "Hello? Anyone down here?"

"Just me," came a voice from directly behind Gordon.

Gordon whirled around, trying to suppress a yelp of surprise. "Oh, uh, hi!" As he met the man's eyes, though, he recoiled with a gasp. " _You!_ "

The man smiled, his cold blue eyes glowing with a triumphant light. "Yes, _me_." He took a quick step closer to Gordon, his hand flashing upward with the speed of a striking snake.

Gordon tried to dodge the blow, but he was a split second too late; something hard in the man's hand cracked against his skull, and a brilliant flash of stars erupted in front of his vision. He was aware of the jarring sensation of hitting the ground, and then everything faded away into darkness.

 _Two Months Earlier…_

 _Australia_

 _January 11_

 _7:12 PM_

Gordon caught the shovel Alan tossed to him, walking up the ramp to pass it to Virgil, who met him just inside the door of the pod.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "One shovel? It's not like we get paid by the hour!"

"Hey, I'm just the guy in the middle," Gordon protested. "You got a problem, you can take it up with Alan!"

Shaking his head, Virgil disappeared into the pod.

Gordon trudged back to his post at the bottom of the ramp, wearily rolling his shoulders as he waited for Alan to bring the next tool.

Cleanup was definitely one of the less glamorous parts of their job, especially when they ended up using smaller tools. With the big stuff, it was easy – Mole, _check_ – but today they'd broken out everything from the shovels to the picks to the dynamite. Well, it wasn't actually dynamite; it was some much safer compound Brains had come up with, but, hey, it accomplished the same thing, and "dynamite" was a whole lot easier to say than whatever it was Brains called the stuff.

Gordon reined in his rambling thoughts as he heard someone saying his name; he turned to see Alan staggering through the sand with a bristling armload of tools. That was classic Alan – apparently frustrated with making multiple trips, he'd decided to go to the opposite extreme and carry as many tools at once as was humanly possible.

Gordon started forward to help him, but then he paused, shivering involuntarily as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He swung around, scanning the crowd, wondering why he suddenly felt as though someone was watching him.

At first, no one caught his attention. The gradually-dispersing crowd was keeping a respectful distance from the big Thunderbird. Occasionally someone would look in Gordon's direction, but no one seemed to have anything other than normal curiosity in his or her expression.

And then Gordon noticed one man standing absolutely still, a rock in the midst of the milling crowd, his face turned toward Thunderbird Two. As Gordon's gaze slid onto him, their eyes suddenly locked – and Gordon stiffened, a jolt running down his spine. He wanted to look away, but it was as if the man's eyes held him pinned him in place. He'd never seen such blue, blue eyes, he thought – and three of his brothers had some seriously blue eyes. This man's eyes weren't a warm, friendly blue like Scott, John or Alan's eyes, either…they were cool and calculating.

A hard bump against his arm jolted him away from the staring contest, and he jerked his head around with a gasp.

"Earth to Gordon!" Alan snapped. "Dude, a little help here?" He nudged Gordon again with his armload of tools.

Gordon shot one quick glance back into the crowd, even though the last thing he wanted was to meet the eyes of the mystery man again – but the man had disappeared. "Sorry, Al," he said distractedly, reaching automatically for the tools.

Alan was staring intently at him, the annoyance in his face shifting to concern. "You okay, Gords? You look kind of weird."

Gordon forced a grin onto his face. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied. "Just a little tired." He began walking up the ramp.

"Well, just one more load to go," Alan called after him. "Don't let Virg leave without me!"

Gordon spun around to walk backwards, a retort hot on his lips – but then he gasped instead, as he saw the mysterious man bump up against Alan. The man shot Gordon a quick, piercing look as he did so, a slight smirk twisting his thin lips.

Gordon wasn't sure why this simple act filled him with terror – their job was full of bumps and pushes – but some instinct had him opening his mouth to shout a warning. Before he could get it out, though, his heel caught on something and he would have gone sprawling backward if strong hands hadn't caught his shoulders.

"Whoa, Gords," Virgil said. "Hey, when you're carrying pointy objects, I'd prefer it if you were to watch where you're going."

"Sorry," Gordon said, getting his feet more solidly under him and hurriedly passing the tools to Virgil. He scanned the crowd, and sighed with relief as he saw Alan calmly walking toward them, the mysterious man nowhere in sight.

Gordon trotted back down the ramp, meeting Alan on the way and taking some of the tools from him. "That's the last of them?" he confirmed.

Alan nodded. "I hate it when we have to use the little tools. We really should have some sort of a moveable storage chest for them so we don't have to carry them like this."

"Maybe Brains can make us a dedicated hover sled," Gordon suggested absently, scanning the crowd all around them as they walked. Just as they stepped onto the ramp, he felt the annoying prickling sensation on the back of his neck again, and unconsciously tensed his shoulders. _Don't look, don't look, don't look_ , he told himself…but he couldn't help it – he looked.

One more time, he found those icy eyes focused directly on him, and for another brief moment, he found himself frozen in an irrational sort of terror.

Then, a tiny flame of anger burst up within him. Who was this man to stare at him like that, to run into his younger brother, to try to get under his skin with that smirk? Gordon was an International Rescue operative, _and_ he was ex-WASP. There was absolutely no reason that he should be afraid of this creep! His anger suddenly flaring up into a raging inferno, he glared into the man's eyes, silently warning him to back off.

To his surprise, the man's eyes lit with cold amusement, and his lips twisted into a tight smile. He bowed his head slightly – was that an _approving_ nod? – and ducked out of sight once more.

The entire exchange had only taken a second or two, but evidently Gordon had paused slightly, because suddenly Alan was nudging him again.

"Gordon? You sure you're okay? This is the second time you've zoned out on me."

"I'm fine," Gordon said quickly, brushing past Alan and stepping into the pod. He walked to the back wall, where Virgil was just finishing hanging up the tools they'd already brought inside.

Virgil turned to greet them, brushing dust off his hands. "That the last of them?"

"Yep, that's it," Alan said. He dumped his armload on the floor near the tool rack with a dramatic sigh. "And thank goodness – I am _so_ ready for a long, hot shower!"

Virgil shot a stern glance toward the pile of tools. "Well, I'm ready to take off – as soon as you pick those up and put them where they belong."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Alan grumbled. "I was getting to that." He sighed and began hanging the tools up.

Virgil headed up to the flight deck while Gordon and Alan worked together in comfortable silence. Gordon was glad for the quiet – it gave him a chance to think. Something about the encounter with the mysterious man had left him oddly unsettled – and the fact that he couldn't pin down what was bothering him made him even more uneasy.

As he and Alan walked up to the flight deck, Gordon considered telling his brothers about what had happened, but one thought stopped the words short – the realization that nothing _had_ actually happened. So a guy had stared at him. If he said that, he'd sound like a whiny kid in the back seat – "Daddy, Alan _looked_ at me! Make him stop!"

It wasn't like the guy had made any threatening moves, or even verbalized any threats. And anyway, Gordon wouldn't be able to identify the man by anything other than his eyes – he'd been so transfixed by that single feature that the rest of the man's face was vague in his mind.

He shrugged and ended up continuing the motion – rolling his shoulders a few times and taking some deep breaths, forcing himself to let go of the tension.

 _Chalk it up as just another weird incident,_ he told himself sternly.

He decided to distract himself with one of his favorite pastimes – tormenting Virgil.

"Do you guys know all the verses to 'The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round?'" he asked.

Virgil groaned. "Don't you _dare_!"

Alan laughed. "I don't know if I know them all, but I bet we could make up some new lyrics – hey, how about, 'The Green Thunderbird Flies Up and Down?'"

"Sweet!" Gordon exclaimed. "And Virg, you can fly up and down every time we sing that line! Hey, can you hum the starting note for us?"

Virgil groaned again and muttered something about violations to the Geneva Convention.

Gordon and Alan laughed mercilessly and began their song, to Virgil's dismay. For a while, the nervous flutter in Gordon's stomach eased.

By the time they got home that night, it was well past dark; they scarfed down their dinner, took quick showers and dropped into bed, too tired even to dream.

 _Tracy Island_

 _January 12_

 _2:37 AM_

The klaxon reverberated through the house, bringing its bleary-eyed victims stumbling automatically to their feet.

Gordon rubbed his eyes and spared the glowing numbers on his clock a quick glance as he rolled out of bed. He grimaced – it was 2:37 in the morning. It had been 10:15 when he had turned out the light; he tried to do the math to figure out how much sleep he'd gotten, but quickly gave up. Whatever amount it was, it hadn't been nearly enough.

He joined his father and brothers in the lounge. Jeff Tracy looked as composed as always, his face lined with weariness but his eyes clear and crisp.

John was speaking from his portrait. He was still in his uniform, and Gordon noticed Scott and Virgil exchange slight frowns.

Gordon smirked. It seemed like those two were only happy when they were worrying about one of their brothers. Lately they'd been on John's case, trying to make sure he got enough sleep.

"Everyone here?" John asked, scanning their faces. "Good. We've got a situation. A Skytrain just jumped the tracks in Bangkok, Thailand, and one car is hanging over the edge of a viaduct. Due to the late hour, the train wasn't fully occupied, but we've still got a couple dozen victims trapped, and the local rescue agencies aren't going to be able to get to all of them without compromising the stability of the front car."

"All right, boys," Jeff rumbled. "Thunderbirds are go!"

As they hurried away, Gordon heard John telling their father, "So, the authorities are saying that that mining tunnel collapse in Australia was sabotage."

Gordon's mind flashed back to a pair of cold blue eyes he'd seen in Australia a few hours earlier. He shook his head and pushed the mental image away – he needed to focus on the upcoming rescue.

 _Bangkok, Thailand_

 _January 11_

 _10:04 PM_

They hardly needed John's coordinates; once they were above Bangkok, they could have simply followed the many flashing lights that were all converging on one spot in the sprawling city. As they slowed down and eased to a hover a couple hundred feet above the danger zone, Gordon leaned forward in his seat and let out a low whistle when he saw the train. Three of its four cars were still on the tracks, but tilted at a precarious angle on the narrow concrete viaduct. The fourth car was halfway over the edge, delicately balanced, rocking ever so slightly.

Scott's voice crackled over the radio. "All right, here's what we're going to do. Virgil, I want you to send Gordon and Alan down with magnetic lines. They'll attach the lines to that front car, and you'll use Two to hold the car steady. Once we're sure the train is stable, Gordon and Alan can begin the evacuation. I'll set down and give them a hand with the evac."

"FAB," Virgil said.

Gordon and Alan headed to Two's lower level and quickly donned their harnesses, clipping themselves to the lines that would lower them to the train tracks. Shooting Alan a glance, and receiving a thumbs-up, Gordon spoke into his watch.

"We're ready," he said. "Lower away!"

"FAB," Virgil said again.

A panel in the floor slid open, and the warm, moist night air swirled up around Gordon and Alan. With the confidence of years of practice, they stepped through the opening without a flinch, feeling the familiar sensation of the harnesses taking their weight.

Virgil began to lower the magnetic lines at the same time. Gordon swung back and forth a little until he could catch his. He'd learned early on that it was much better to be hanging onto the line than to let it whip around in the wind – it hurt to get whacked by a thick metal cable.

They were still a hundred feet above the train when Gordon saw the front car lurch forward a little. Even with the wind roaring in his ears, the screech of metal on metal drifted up to him, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

"Lower me fast, Virg," he snapped. "It's going over!"

They'd all learned when to ask questions, and when to just act, and Virgil, of all the brothers, was perhaps the most finely attuned to this distinction. So before Gordon had even finished speaking, he found himself hurtling down toward the train tracks below at breakneck speed. The line jerked him to a stop with six feet to spare, and he used his momentum to swing himself forward. He hit the train feet first, knees bent to absorb the shock, and reached forward with the magnetic cable, clamping it to the side of the train with a solid _thunk_.

The pitch of Thunderbird Two's engines rose as Virgil immediately flew a bit higher to take up the slack in the cable, stopping the train car's forward motion.

A moment later, Alan dropped down out of the sky and attached his cable further down the car. Virgil used the winch to take up the slack on the second line, then lowered his brothers the rest of the way to the ground. With his usual finesse, he set them down on the tracks with scarcely a bump.

"You okay, Gords?" Virgil asked calmly.

"Yeah, I'm fine…but, whew! What a rush!" Gordon noticed that his fingers were trembling slightly as he unsnapped his harness from the line.

Alan hurried to Gordon's side, grinning broadly. "Dude, that was epic!" he exclaimed, slapping Gordon on the back. "You were like a superhero, or something, swooping in to the rescue!"

Gordon laughed. "Yep, that's me – the Caped Cabler. I just need a cape, and I'll be all set. Oh, and a sidekick – hey, you wanna be my sidekick?"

Alan made a face, but before he could reply, Scott trotted up to them.

"All right, guys, good job, but we need to keep moving. The local crews can evacuate the back cars; you two are with me on the front car. Let's get to it!" He started to turn away, then paused and smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. "Oh, and Gords? I think a cape would be a great look for you."

Grinning, Gordon and Alan hurried after Scott.

The remainder of the rescue was a cakewalk, by their standards. Three of the five passengers in the front car walked out with only minor injuries. The other two were carried out on stretchers as a precaution, but did not seem to be badly hurt. International Rescue handed the victims off to the local agencies, and once the train was evacuated, Virgil used the magnetic lines to ease the front car back up onto the tracks. After that, the only thing left to do was pack up and go home.

Virgil retracted the magnetic cables and lowered Gordon and Alan's lines. As Gordon attached the line to his harness, he noticed two police officers studying a portion of track under the wheels of the train. Gordon's stomach jolted as he realized what they were looking at – a short section of track was mangled and twisted, with black char marks spreading outward from that point, as if a small bomb had been placed there. That would make this the second rescue in one day that could potentially trace back to sabotage. Was it just a coincidence?

"Ready?" Virgil asked.

Gordon automatically flashed Alan a thumbs up.

"Ready," Alan replied.

As the winch lifted him up into the air, Gordon saw a familiar blue-clad figure walking briskly along the street below – Scott, making his way back to Thunderbird One. Suddenly a man bumped against Scott, knocking him off balance, and Gordon found his hands unconsciously clenching into fists. He'd seen those same motions earlier, when the mysterious blue-eyed man had run into Alan. But it couldn't be the same man…could it?

He watched the gestures as the man evidently apologized. Scott waved the apology off with a smile and continued on his way, but the man stayed where he was. He swung around, and his gaze instantly zeroed in on Gordon.

Gordon's breath caught in his throat, and he felt like the bottom had just dropped out of his world – it _was_ the same man. The same blue eyes, the same thin smirk, the same oddly challenging stare.

A moment later, the winch pulled Gordon and Alan out of sight up into the belly of the big green Birds. Gordon's fingers automatically unfastened his harness, and his feet carried him up to the flight deck from force of habit, but his mind was still churning.

He'd seen that same man just hours earlier in Australia – hundreds of miles away – at another rescue. How could he have made it all the way to Thailand so quickly? Well, okay, if he had a fast plane, then that part was feasible…but _why_? Why show up at two rescues in one day? Was he following the Thunderbirds? Or was he actually causing the incidents, so that in a sense, the Thunderbirds were following _him_?

He slumped into his seat, his eyes drooping. He resisted the pull of sleep, though, partly because it wasn't a long flight home and partly because he was concerned that if he slept now, the blue-eyed man would invade his dreams.

The brothers were practically asleep already when they got home, and their father sent them straight to bed; they'd save debriefing for the morning.

Despite his weariness, Gordon tossed and turned for a long time before drifting into an uneasy slumber. And, just as he'd feared, most of his dreams contained a distant, silent figure, watching him with icy blue eyes.

 _Tracy Island_

 _January 12_

 _11:02 AM_

It was amazing how different things looked in the morning sunlight, Gordon thought as he made his way down to the pool for his daily swim. A few hours of sleep and he was able to see how crazily he'd been overreacting the night before.

So he'd run into the same guy just hours apart and in totally different countries…stranger things had happened in their line of work. It was a total coincidence, and he was sure he'd never see the man again.

He dove into the pool, and just like that, all thoughts of the mysterious man vanished from his mind.

That is, until he spotted the man on the dock after dropping off a load of shipwrecked boaters on Malta the next day.

And watched him bump into Virgil at a rescue in the Italian Alps a week later.

It was at that point that he enlisted John's help, looking up videos of rescues the man had attended and using all of International Rescue's considerable resources to attempt to identify him. After a few days of research, though, John reported back to Gordon empty-handed.

"Sorry, Gords," he had said. "This guy doesn't seem to exist in any of the usual – or unusual – databases. He really is a mystery man." He frowned as he studied a close-up screen shot of the man from a video. "It's weird, though – I could swear I've seen him somewhere before…" He thought for a moment, and then snapped his fingers. "I know – he was at my last book signing, the one in Chicago. He bumped into me, and I dropped some stuff. He helped me pick it up. I remember the blue eyes." He shrugged. "He seemed nice enough."

Gordon growled in frustration. "But he shows up at these scenes before we get there, or while we're there – I don't see how there's any way he could predict where we'd be unless he's somehow _causing_ the disasters. That means sabotage. Do any of the videos prove it?"

John shook his head. "No, I've gone over them a dozen times, and tracked down other security footage from each danger zone as well. Our mystery man is not implicated in any of the videos."

"You agree that several of the disasters lately have been caused by sabotage, though, don't you?"

"Oh, absolutely," John said. "But can we say that it's a deliberate attack against International Rescue, and that this man is the attacker? I'm not sure we're there quite yet. But I'll be watching for him now, and if we keep seeing him, we'll definitely want to get the authorities involved."

Gordon had left that conversation feeling rather like John had been humoring him. He knew John wasn't really, that his older brother was just as concerned about the potential threat as he was, but for some reason all of Gordon's arguments sounded a lot better in his head than they did out loud.

He reluctantly set the issue aside, and began to relax over the next couple weeks as the man didn't show up at any more rescues, and there were no further signs of sabotage.

Then, in the middle of February, Gordon felt the prickle on the back of his neck again at a rescue in Los Angeles, California. He spun around and spotted the mystery man standing in the crowd that was watching an apartment building fire. The man's eyes, as usual, were fixed firmly on Gordon.

"John, I see him," Gordon snapped into his wrist comm., not taking his eyes off the man. "I'm gonna go talk to him."

"Gordon, I don't think that's –"

Gordon cut John off, striding toward the man, who was just behind the safety line.

The man watched him coming, and his eyes lit up with cold amusement. He pointed toward the apartment, and as Gordon warily turned to look, an explosion suddenly rocked the building, showering debris all around. Gordon whipped back around, but the man had disappeared into the screaming crowd.

After that, Gordon told his father and the rest of his brothers about the man, and a full-scale investigation ground into gear. They even involved Lady Penelope, as well as a handful of other IR agents around the world.

Three weeks passed, with no results – and no more sign of the mystery man.

Gordon knew better than to relax this time, but neither could he argue when his father decided to call off the investigation. They still had no real evidence that the man was any sort of threat to International Rescue.

On March 7th, the Thunderbirds were called to Mexico to look for a man lost in the underwater caves there. It was a job for Thunderbird Four, and Gordon climbed into his trusty little yellow submarine and dove into the dark caverns.

He never came back out.


	2. Chapter 2

_Okay, my sister and ScribeOfRED talked me into posting the next chapter already, so here you go. Please don't kill me after reading this!_

 _Unknown Location_

 _Probably Still March 7_

 _Unknown Time_

Gordon woke up slowly, his head pounding. He raised his head and stiffened as he looked straight into a pair of cold blue eyes. He tried to move away from the man, but discovered that he was sitting against a pole, with his wrists handcuffed together behind the pole. There was a strip of duct tape over his mouth.

The mystery man was standing a few feet in front of Gordon, arms crossed over his chest, silently contemplating him. His eyes seemed to glow with a glimmer of cool amusement as he watched his prisoner become more alert.

Not wanting to be sitting while the man was standing, Gordon managed to push and wiggle his way to his feet, grimacing as the handcuffs bit into his wrists.

Once he was upright, Gordon returned his kidnapper's silent stare, studying his opponent intently. He'd seen the mystery man so many times now – and watched him in so many videos – that he could identify him by more than just his eyes, but the man was still oddly difficult to describe.

He mentally catalogued the man's characteristics: mid-thirties, average height, well-muscled, and built like a dancer – or an acrobat. He tended to stand like he owned the world. The clothes – all black and well tailored, with a sort of covert-ops military flair. There wasn't anything particularly distinct about his face – other than his eyes, of course. Dark hair. Strong hands with long, fine fingers. The only ornament a heavy gold ring emblazoned with the letter "K."

A smile playing around his thin lips, the man let Gordon stare at him for a few more moments, then spoke up, his voice soft and cultured.

"Well, Gordon, it's good to finally be able to speak to you. I've been eagerly awaiting this day for quite some time now, and if I'm right, you've been rather looking forward to it yourself – although I suspect our reasons are quite different. Oh, yes, I do apologize for the handcuffs and the gag…a necessary evil, I'm afraid. I'd like for you to hear me out, and I'm sure you'll agree that this is the only way that would happen."

Gordon growled in response.

The man ignored him.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Kane. There's more to it than that, of course, but for the time being, that will do.

"You may be interested to learn that I've been planning this little chat for many months. I know you've been seeing me frequently over the past several weeks, and I could tell I was beginning to cause you considerable consternation. Believe it or not, that was not my goal, so I actually moved my timeline up by a few weeks so that I could answer all your questions.

"But I should begin at the beginning. You, of course, are wondering why we are here today. Well, the journey to this point began two years ago, with a simple moment of curiosity on my part. I was between jobs when I happened to hear a report that International Rescue had just saved the day again – at some flooded village in Indonesia, if I recall correctly. I had some time to kill, and I decided that it would be an entertaining diversion to find out who the Thunderbirds really were.

"This is a side note, but I have to say that you have guarded your secret very well – it took me nearly twelve hours to figure it out. Don't look so worried…at the moment, I have every reason to keep your identity a secret. You'll understand what I mean by that in a few minutes.

"So, my curiosity was assuaged on that front, and truth be told, I did briefly consider selling your names. As I continued to research your family, however, I found myself becoming more and more impressed by the incredible skill set encompassed by you and your brothers – and I am not easily impressed."

Kane began to pace, his eyes fixed on a distant point on an imaginary horizon.

"The seed of an idea began to take root in my mind, stemming from a thought I first had about ten years ago. You see, I am the ultimate criminal. There is no one else in the world with my level of skill, my database of knowledge, and my rate of success. I have worked nearly my whole life to achieve this status, and it occurred to me at one point that the skills and information I have accumulated are far too valuable to waste. So, for the past ten years, I have been searching for a worthy successor – a young person I could train to walk in my footsteps, to take my skills to heart and perhaps achieve even more than I ever have.

"For ten years, I have searched for that person. I have considered dozens of young men and women, but every candidate to date has come up short."

Kane glanced toward Gordon.

"And then that one moment of curiosity led me to discover the Tracy family, and all the pieces suddenly fell into place. Here, hidden away from the world on a small island, was a pool of exceptionally talented young men, just waiting for someone to take them in hand and raise them up to be all that they could be!

"Five young men…and all I had to do was pick one. At first, I thought I could choose any one of you, but then I began studying each of you in more detail, and I'm glad I did.

"Your oldest brother, Scott, caught my attention first – perhaps too much so. With his striking physical appearance and strong personality, he would not easily be forgotten by those whose paths he crossed, and in my business, being easily recognized is far from a desirable trait. Still, I could have worked with that, especially considering Scott's assets - his physical strength, his determination, and his military training. In the end, however, what led me to cross his name off my list was his black-and-white sense of morality. While I'm sure that Scott _could_ be manipulated into working for me, since my research indicates that he would do anything to protect his family, I feel certain that the choice would break him. He would be left a shell of his former self, and I don't think I'm wrong in saying that he might even lose his will to live after a time in such a lifestyle.

"I studied John next. What an amazingly talented young man! With his intellect and his technological skills, he could take the criminal world by storm. However, I insist that my protégé also be extremely adept at the physical side of the job, and while John is certainly capable of learning such skills, physicality does not seem to be his forte, and I am skeptical that he would apply himself to the necessary degree.

"Virgil intrigued me for a little while. He presents an interesting dichotomy – he is physically very strong, but he also possesses an incredible attention to detail, which has only been enhanced by his artistic and musical training. With those skills, he could be particularly successful as a thief. However, my observations have led me to believe that he is guided by his emotions too much of the time, and that he is too closely connected to his family. Take him away from those he loves, and before long there would be nothing left of him.

"Then there's your younger brother, Alan. Typical youngest child – he feels he has so much to prove. Oh, how I could shape that burning desire, that raw talent! But he is too much of a loose cannon, and I've noticed that he doesn't take orders well. As tempting as I found his potential, I felt that the risk to me was too great.

"So we come to you… _you_ , Gordon Cooper Tracy."

Kane stopped pacing and swung around to face Gordon.

"The more I've studied you, Gordon, the more I've come to want you. I can see the question on your face, though: Why would I choose _you_ over your brothers? You have always compared yourself to your family members, and you have always believed that you come up short. Scott – pilot extraordinaire and Field Commander of International Rescue. John – astronaut, published author, linguist, technological genius. Virgil – pilot, artist, musician, engineer. Alan – astronaut, race car driver, underachieving but brilliant. And then there's you. You struggled in school. You didn't even _go_ to college. You don't like to fly, and outer space doesn't do a thing for you. You've always wondered why you aren't like your brothers; in fact, your passions and skills are so different that when you were young, you even wondered if you were really a Tracy."

Kane suddenly closed the gap between them completely, placing his hands on Gordon's shoulders.

It took all of Gordon's willpower to keep from flinching away, to meet the man's gaze and hold his shoulders straight.

Kane continued, "Let me tell you why I find you so fascinating, Gordon, what made me choose you above any of your other family members. You are superior because even though you doubted yourself, you didn't for one moment stop pursuing what you love. You swam, and you did it so well that you won the Olympic Gold. You joined WASP, and you excelled in whatever task was set before you. When you nearly died in the hydrofoil crash, you pulled yourself back up, practically from the grave, and learned to walk again through sheer willpower. I've hacked into your medical records, Gordon, and I know the odds against you being able to stand on your own two feet right now.

"You have faced obstacle after obstacle in your life, Gordon Tracy, and after each one, you have come out stronger – you have proven time and again that you do not crack under pressure. You are physically strong and fit, and you are far smarter than you act. You are courageous, you are resilient, and above all, you are _determined._

"For all of these reasons and more, I have decided that you are the culmination of my ten years of searching. You are the one who will receive my training, and at the end of that time, you will be feared and revered as the world's foremost criminal!

"Gordon Tracy, I have chosen _you_ to be my apprentice."

Kane stepped back, letting his words sink in. After a moment, he smirked. "Feel honored?" he asked. "Well, you should." He didn't take his eyes off Gordon's face. "I can see that you have plenty you'd like to say. Well, you'll get your chance in a moment. I just have one more thing to tell you, and then you may say whatever you wish.

"Actually, this will no doubt answer one of the questions you would have asked me. Why did I purposefully collide with each one of your brothers, but not with you? Don't tell me you haven't wondered – I can see it in your eyes. Here's the answer – it was all a part of my plan to secure you as my apprentice. As I ran into each of your brothers, I was carrying a small, quick-release hypodermic needle. I made sure I bumped them hard enough that they wouldn't notice the slight prick of the needle over the shock of the collision. John was the hardest to track down, but since I know his secret identity, I was able to catch him in Chicago at a book signing. Excellent book, by the way.

"But I digress. You are wondering, of course, what I injected your brothers with. I have to say that the answer to that question is perhaps the most ingenious part of my plan. I have a contact who works in a cutting-edge facility producing experimental nanotechnology – microscopic robots, if you will. These robots, often called nanites, can be programmed to perform a variety of functions, and I had him design a special batch just for your family. Your brothers now have little tiny bits of machinery floating around inside them which are designed to attack the body from the inside out at the press of a button."

Kane held up a small remote control that was dominated by a single, large red button. "I've been told that the nanites tend to settle in some of the more important areas of the body – the heart, the brain, the lungs, the spinal column…you get the picture, I'm sure. They will also last indefinitely – theoretically, I could press this button ten years from now, and all four of your brothers would die a quick but excruciating death.

"Of course, I have no reason to harm your family as long as you agree to submit yourself to my tutelage – to obey me and to serve me without question from this day forward, and to cut off all ties to your past.

"So…let's try this again." Kane said, his voice lowering to a hiss. "Gordon Tracy, I have chosen you to be my apprentice." He reached out and pulled the tape off Gordon's mouth.

Gordon gasped in a shaky breath, panic and rage warring within him in equal measure. All the defiant words that had been welling up within him during Kane's monologue…they had all left him the moment Kane held up that remote control. That one little remote control could end all of his brothers' lives in one moment, and Kane held it in the palm of his hand.

No, there were no words.

The only option left to him was to surrender.

Gordon bowed his head and sank to his knees, defeat pressing him down like a physical weight on his shoulders.

Kane chuckled – a low, cruel, triumphant sound. "I thought that that would be your answer," he breathed. He reached down and unlocked the handcuffs, then turned and disappeared into the shadows. A door closed a moment later.

Shivering, even though he wasn't cold, Gordon slowly pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around his legs, and rested his aching head on his knees.

Two months earlier, Alan had teasingly compared him to a superhero. He wondered what Alan would say if he ever found out that Gordon was about to become a super villain.

 _Mexico_

 _March 7_

 _3:15 PM_

"Gordon!"

"Where are you, Gordon?"

The words reverberated through the cavern, the echoes shaking them around and then throwing them back hollow and desolate.

When Scott and Virgil circled back to the shoreline for the third time, the glances they cast each other were full of fear and worry.

"Scott, we've been calling for two hours," Virgil said, his voice soft with weariness and raw from overuse. "And we've searched the whole cave three times now. I-I don't think he's down here."

Scott stood on the shoreline, staring out toward the gently bobbing yellow submarine. His shoulders slumped as he came to a decision. "All right," he said quietly. "You take the Mole back up. I'll take Four back through the underwater river and meet you on the surface."

Virgil's eyes widened as the possible implication in Scott's words hit him. He leapt backward. "No, wait, I changed my mind – I'm going to keep looking!"

"Virg," Scott said. He looked up and met Virgil's eyes, straightening his shoulders. "I'm _not_ giving up. I'm just agreeing that Gordon isn't down here any more. We're going to go back to the surface and get John and Brains to figure out why Gordon's tracker stopped working. Then we're going to come back down here and find him, even if it means searching every one of these caves!"

Virgil took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Right," he said. "Okay." He turned and walked reluctantly toward the pointy nose of the Mole that was poking through the opposite wall of the cave. "I'll see you at the top, then."

Scott watched him go, then headed for Thunderbird Four, unconsciously letting his shoulders slump again once Virgil was out of sight. He wasn't going to let himself give up, and he didn't plan to let Virgil see what he was really thinking, but somehow he _knew_ that they wouldn't find Gordon in any of the underwater caverns, no matter how long they looked.

It wasn't anything more than a gut feeling, though, so Scott knew that he had to go through the motions of searching for his little brother…especially since he had absolutely no idea where Gordon might really be. That was what scared him more than anything else.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 _A/N – I should mention that I got the inspiration for this story from the final two episodes of the first season of the 2003 cartoon Teen Titans._


	3. Chapter 3

_Unknown Location_

 _March 8_

 _5:38 AM_

Gordon only knew the date and time because they were displayed on a watch Kane had strapped onto his wrist a few minutes earlier when he had roughly shaken Gordon awake.

The night before, after Kane left, Gordon had sat in the same position for a long, long time – he didn't know how long, because his IR watch was gone.

 _Everything_ was gone. His life as he knew it had ended, just like that, and he was still trying to wrap his head around the concept.

Even now, as he dressed in dark, tailored clothes similar to Kane's, he felt dull and numb – as if he were dreaming. As if any second now, he'd wake up, with Scott smoothing down his hair and murmuring that it was just a nightmare…. _no_. Gordon shook his head to dispel the image. He couldn't let himself dwell on what he had lost, or he'd never survive. There would be no more Smother Brother, always watching out for him. No more calling John Space Case. No more Virg the Surg chasing him down when he was hurt or sick. No more tag-teaming with Alan to torment their older brothers.

 _Stop it!_ he told himself sternly.

He took a long, shuddering breath and let it out slowly, straightening his collar with fingers that trembled slightly.

Stepping in front of the mirror – he'd eventually discovered the night before that Kane had left him in a sparsely-furnished bedroom – he studied his reflection. He looked like a shadow of his former self, he thought. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes and lines on his face that hadn't been there the day before. The black clothing made his eyes look dull and lifeless.

After a moment, he shrugged and turned away. It didn't matter what he looked like. Nothing mattered any more.

He stepped out into a hallway as dim and dreary as his bedroom and wondered which way he was supposed to go. All Kane had said was, "Get dressed, then come find me."

Things looked a little brighter to the right, so Gordon turned that way, noticing that his rubbery, flexible shoes made hardly any noise on the concrete floor.

He didn't know whether it was instinct or a faint breath of movement that alerted him to a fast-moving presence behind him. He spun around just in time to dodge Kane's fist. Taking advantage of his opponent's forward momentum, he grabbed Kane's arm, and with a rapid twist, sent the man flying over his shoulder.

Instead of hitting the ground hard, though, Kane landed rolling and sprang back up to his feet in one fluid motion. For a moment, he and Gordon faced each other tensely, fists raised.

Then Kane straightened, letting his hands fall to his sides, his trademark smirk appearing on his face. "Good, Gordon," he said. "You have an excellent awareness of your surroundings. Of course, I knew that already, based on the way you always sensed me watching you at rescues, but I wanted to test your reflexes." He studied Gordon critically. "Looks like the clothes fit all right. Later I'll show you my supply rooms, and you can pick out some accessories."

Gordon shrugged. The only "accessory" he wanted was a certain remote control.

Kane pointed down the hall. "You will find the kitchen at the end of this hallway. Get some breakfast, but I advise that you eat lightly – we start training in twenty minutes." He strode silently away in the opposite direction.

With a sigh, Gordon headed for the kitchen. The last thing he wanted to do was eat, but he suspected he'd regret it later if he didn't get something in his system.

He paused in the doorway to the kitchen, surveying the room. He wondered what Kane ate for breakfast – probably nails and razor blades, he thought darkly.

But, no, Kane had a fully-stocked refrigerator and plenty of normal food in the cupboards. Gordon poured himself a bowl of cold cereal and ate it automatically, not really tasting it.

He was just setting the bowl in the sink – and wondering if Kane had a housekeeper – when the criminal appeared in the doorway.

"This way," Kane said.

Gordon followed Kane through a labyrinth of dark, dreary hallways.

"You know, they do make these things called light bulbs," he grumbled.

"You'll come to appreciate the dark before long," Kane replied. "The night is a thief's best friend. Here we are – the training room."

They stepped into a large room, slightly better lit than the rest of the building. A large, square rubber mat took up half the floor space, with gymnastics fixtures occupying the other half of the room, and assorted other exercise-related equipment lining the edges. One wall was set up with climbing handholds.

Kane moved to stand in the center of the rubber mat, and Gordon followed his lead, standing opposite him. They began sparring, moving slowly at first to warm up.

"My research indicates that during your time in WASP, you became proficient in several styles of fighting," Kane said, blocking a punch from Gordon and countering with a high, spinning kick that Gordon ducked. "What have you been doing in recent years to keep up your skills?"

"None of your business," Gordon growled.

Kane's face darkened, and he suddenly lunged forward, brushing past Gordon's defenses and kicking his feet out from under him. He grabbed Gordon's arm at the same time, twisting it painfully behind his back and smashing him to the floor.

Gordon's involuntary cry of pain was cut off as the collision with the floor knocked all the air from his lungs.

Kane pressed one knee down on Gordon's back, his weight keeping Gordon from sucking a breath into his aching lungs. " _Everything_ about you is my business now, Gordon," he hissed. "From this point on, you will have no secrets from me, and I expect you to answer my every question promptly and with respect." He released Gordon's arm and stepped back.

Coughing, Gordon lay still for a moment before slowly pushing himself back up onto his feet, shaking out his arm with a grimace.

Kane stood nearby, relaxed and deadly calm. "Now, let's try that again. What have you studied in the years since you left WASP?"

Gordon gritted his teeth. Everything within him wanted to defy Kane, to refuse to answer. But ultimately, he knew that he'd given up the right to be defiant the night before, when by his silence he'd agreed to serve Kane in exchange for the lives of his brothers. There was no choice other than to obey, to give in. And so, he forced himself to speak, though he couldn't bring himself to look Kane in the eye. "I haven't worked on anything regularly. I just spar with Scott occasionally – maybe a few times a month. It's not like I need those skills often in my line of work."

"Your former line of work, you mean," Kane corrected him sharply. "Very well. Let us continue."

They settled back into the rhythm of sparring, gradually picking up the pace and introducing more complex moves. Occasionally, Kane would pause to correct Gordon's form, or suggest he try a certain defensive stance.

They continued for an hour, and when Kane finally called a halt, Gordon had to grudgingly admit to himself that, regardless of any of the man's character flaws, Kane was a good teacher.

Next they toured Kane's sprawling villa. All of the rooms were equally dark, cold and sparse, and before long, Gordon was yearning for even the tiniest hint of sunshine – or even just a splash of color somewhere.

It turned out that Kane had his own helijet, complete with a private landing strip, as well as a collection of fast cars – apparently one of his few open concessions to luxury. The cars still reflected his personality, though – they had what Alan would have called aggressive styling, and they were all in shades of black and gray.

"No swimming pool?" Gordon asked at one point, then held his breath, hoping that Kane wouldn't see the question as too snarky. He'd have to try to learn to filter his words – something his brothers would have claimed was impossible, he thought sadly.

"As a matter of fact, I'll be having one installed for you next week," Kane said briskly. "Any time you spend in the pool must be outside our normally scheduled activities, however. While I recognize that swimming is good exercise, I have far more important things that I want you spending your time on."

They entered a small room lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves that were packed full of neatly-labeled boxes and bins.

"One of my supply rooms," Kane said. "You will begin to outfit yourself today, although I am sure that as your training progresses, you will modify your choices. I do require you to select a few particular things – gloves, for example. You will wear gloves whenever we are out in the field – leaving fingerprints at a crime scene is, of course, a ludicrously amateur mistake. I also want you to keep a flashlight and a lock-picking kit on your person at all times. Other than that, you may choose whatever you wish. If there is something you want that I do not have, tell me and I will get it for you."

He strode toward the door, pausing to say, "Eat lunch at noon. You may eat a somewhat heavier meal if you wish – this afternoon, I'll be teaching you the basics of lock picking."

Gordon watched him go, then turned back toward the shelves, studying them with little interest. It was distinctly depressing to think that he was standing in a room full of equipment that was to assist him in stealing things. For all he knew, the supplies themselves could be stolen, he thought darkly.

There was only one thing in the whole world that he actually wanted to steal – a certain small remote control.

He turned this thought over in his mind, an idea beginning to form.

He _was_ in training by the world's foremost criminal, and he _was_ going to be taught how to steal things…what if he applied himself wholeheartedly to Kane's instruction, but only with the goal of learning enough to steal that remote?

It could take a long time; he had no doubt of that. But wasn't it worth a few months, or even a couple years of his time, if only it would free him from Kane's control and reunite him with his family?

Heart beating fast, Gordon stood in the middle of Kane's storage room and made a decision. From that day forward, he had a new life goal: to learn to be the best possible thief, for the sole purpose of stealing that remote control.

Finally feeling a spark of optimism for the first time since Kane had kidnapped him, Gordon spent an hour looking through the supplies. Bearing in mind Kane's instructions, he first found a pair of sleek, black leather gloves, a lock-picking kit and a couple different flashlights.

He buckled on a utility belt, and began filling the pouches on the belt: a multi-tool went in first, then a tin of black face paint and a compact grapple gun. He selected a black knit hat and a pair of night-vision goggles that reminded him of the slim-profile goggles he wore for swimming.

Gordon hesitated for a little while over a blank notebook – he wasn't much of a writer, but something compelled him to take it, even if for no other reason than to keep a record of his side of the story during the dark days ahead. Deciding he had enough supplies to get started, he dropped the notebook off in his room before heading to the kitchen to get some lunch.

He wore his new night vision goggles on the way down the hall, smirking as previously dark corners became visible.

Then he felt guilty for enjoying something that had come from Kane.

He grimaced – apparently he had some complicated thought processes to work through. He really didn't know what he ought to be feeling from moment to moment. At one end of the spectrum, Gordon felt as though he'd never smile again. How _could_ he smile when everything happy had been taken from his life? Put that way, depression seemed like an entirely reasonable response to his situation.

But on the other hand, he'd had a few moments when he had felt more like himself. For example, by the end of the sparring match that morning, he'd begun to enjoy himself. And then while Kane was giving him the tour earlier, Gordon had almost cracked a joke – he'd been about to suggest that they call the house the Bat Cave because it was so dark. Thankfully, he had bit that one back just in time.

As much as he hated to admit that Kane was right about anything, Gordon knew that the natural resilience the man had described him as possessing was coming into play already. As natural as it was to hate everything about his situation, it was also entirely natural – for Gordon – to find humor in the small things and to learn to make the best of dark circumstances.

He'd been here before, he realized – after the hydrofoil accident, there had been a period of time when the future had looked entirely black and hopeless. But then one day, something had made him smile – he thought it might have been as simple as a funny saying on Alan's T-shirt – and once his sense of humor was jumpstarted, everything had seemed just a tiny bit easier.

So maybe it was okay to allow himself to enjoy a few small things here and there.

He fixed himself a sandwich and ate it slowly, bracing himself for whatever the afternoon might bring.


	4. Chapter 4

_Tracy Island_

 _March 9_

 _11:52 AM_

Alan had saved Scott and Virgil a long time of searching the caverns by suggesting that they try looking at Thunderbird Four's dash cam.

What Scott and Virgil saw had them gasping in horror while the rest of the family clamored for information.

"It's him!" Virgil exclaimed. "It's the guy with the blue eyes!"

"What did he do?" Jeff asked, his tone low with dread, as if he suspected the answer.

Scott's eyes blazed with anger. "He knocked Gordon out and carried him away, Dad. The mystery man kidnapped Gordon!" He slammed a fist down on Four's console. "And we just brushed Gordon's concerns off!"

There was a long pause, then Jeff said tightly, "All right, boys, come on home, and we'll put together a plan of action. I'll start by contacting our Mexico agent and see if he can pick up any sort of a trail."

By the time Scott and Virgil made it back to Tracy Island, Jeff had clearly been on the phone for a while, John and Brains were talking up a storm through John's portrait, and Alan was working on a computer, his eyebrows scrunched together in concentration. The delicious smells wafting in from the kitchen revealed that Grandma was coping with the stress by cooking up enough to feed an army.

Scott and Virgil hurried over to Alan's side.

"Anything yet?" Scott demanded.

Alan shook his head. "Dad's talked to probably a dozen agents so far, John and Brains are trying to figure out how to remotely boost Gordon's tracker signal in case it's still online, and I've been looking at maps of the cave system. My theory so far is that this guy had a cloaked submarine hidden behind these rock formations." He pointed to the map. "Unfortunately, if he did have a submarine, there's any number of routes he could have taken when leaving the cave, so that's not real helpful."

Jeff hung up the phone then – just as Lady's Penelope's portrait began to blink.

Penny skipped the pleasantries, a sure sign that she had information. "Jeff, I've got news for you," she said breathlessly.

Instantly, everyone crowded around her portrait.

"Over the past three weeks, of course, I have been looking into Gordon's mystery man, and as you know, all of my inquiries have led to nothing. None of my usual contacts know a thing about him – or perhaps they simply aren't talking. Just a few minutes ago, however, it occurred to me that there was one contact I had not yet consulted: Parker. He recognized your man at once. The man's name is Kane – K-a-n-e – and he calls himself the world's foremost criminal. He might not be far off the mark, either – apparently he has a one-hundred-percent success rate as a thief, which is rather astounding."

Jeff breathed out a long sigh. "So should I be watching for a ransom note?"

Penny hesitated. "Well – I'm afraid that's the concerning bit. You see, Kane is known for pulling off the perfect robberies, not for kidnapping. It's highly unusual for a criminal – especially one so well established – to abandon his _modus operandi._ I'm sorry to say this, Jeff…but I don't think that there will be a ransom note." Her eyes were full of sympathy.

There was a long silence as they all absorbed that unpleasant thought.

"But what other reason would this guy have to kidnap him?" Virgil asked softly.

"Maybe he's looking for information about the Thunderbirds," Scott suggested. "Or he could be trying to get our names. Either of those things would probably be worth a lot of money on the black market."

John cleared his throat, and they all glanced toward his portrait, noticing that he looked distinctly uncomfortable. "There is one thing that I've neglected to mention until now – something that might actually be very important. You know how Gordon kept coming back to the fact that this Kane guy had made a point to physically run into each one of us? Well, he bumped into me too."

Scott frowned. "When was the last time you even went on a rescue?"

"Well, that's the thing." John sighed. "It wasn't on a rescue – it was when I was at that book signing in Chicago."

Everyone winced.

"So," Jeff said slowly. "It's safe to say that Kane knows who we are. What we still don't know is why he would choose to target Gordon, and what his plans are for him."

They all stared at each other in silence, not sure what to do next.

 _Kane's Villa_

 _March 8_

 _3:58 PM_

Gordon stifled a yawn as he followed Kane through the hallways once again. He wondered if every day would be as packed as this one had been. He'd been on his feet for around eleven hours with just an hour or so of sleep the night before…add to that a pile of major, life-changing stress, and a nap was starting to sound pretty good.

They had just finished their lock-picking session. When faced with a table full of dozens of kinds of padlocks and deadbolts, Gordon had decided to cut to the chase and tell Kane that he already knew how to pick roughly a third of the locks. He didn't plan on telling Kane how he had learned such skills…suffice it to say that he and Alan may have spent too much time hanging around Lady Penelope's chauffeur as teenagers.

Kane's eyebrows rose, and he said, "Show me."

So Gordon dug out his kit and worked his way through several of the locks, choosing ones in the middle and upper ranges of his expertise.

Kane watched him for a while, drumming his fingers on the table, a slightly puzzled look in his eyes. Finally, as Gordon opened one of the most difficult locks on the table with a few deft movements, realization dawned on Kane's face and he slammed his fist down on the table. "Parker," he snapped, spitting the name out as if it left a nasty taste in his mouth. Then he shrugged. "Well, I suppose that will save us some time, but you still have plenty to learn. Take this one, for example…"

The lesson had continued for the better part of three hours.

Now they were wandering again, and Gordon had no idea where they were going. All Kane had said was, "Follow me."

 _Ever hear of the word 'please?'_ Gordon thought grouchily, half wishing he had the guts to say it aloud.

They walked down several flights of stairs and entered a small room. Gordon vaguely remembered poking his head into the room during the tour that morning; it was empty other than a large metal weight in the middle with a chain attached to the top.

Kane stopped beside the weight. "Stand here," he said, pointing to a spot right by the weight. He picked up the chain and displayed a cuff on the end. "A fairly standard handcuff-style lock, do you not agree?"

Gordon nodded.

Kane bent down and snapped the cuff shut around Gordon's right ankle. Then he stood and backed toward the door. "You have your lock-picking kit with you, of course?"

"Yeah…but what's the catch?" Gordon asked warily. "This'll take me, like, two seconds to get off."

"Ah, the catch," Kane said, smirking. "That would be _this_!" He flipped a lever by the door, and the floor suddenly dropped out from under Gordon.

Gordon hit a square pool of icy-cold water with a tremendous splash, only getting in a quick gasp of air before the weight on his ankle jerked him below the surface. When the weight settled to the bottom of the tank with a muffled thump, Gordon had five feet of water over his head.

Considerably jarred, he tugged pointlessly at the weight for one long moment before he remembered his lock-picking kit. He fumbled and dropped it getting it out of the pouch on his belt, but caught it just before it would have drifted out of his reach.

He hadn't gotten nearly enough air, and he had to force himself to set aside his barely-contained panic. He needed to relax and not rush through the lock-picking process – one false move at this point could be disastrous.

He had to twist his body at an odd angle to reach the keyhole, and it was difficult to get the necessary leverage to hold his position. The dim lighting didn't make things any easier, either.

 _C'mon, Gordon, you can do this…_

Trying to ignore the way his lungs felt like they were about to explode, he finally managed to insert the tools into the keyhole. One twist, and the cuff popped open, freeing Gordon to shoot to the surface.

He burst out of the water with a huge gasping sound that he probably wouldn't be proud of later when he had time to think about things like that. After a few moments of greedily sucking in air, he rolled onto his back and let himself float, relishing the simple feeling of breathing.

Something splashed down next to him, and he rolled back over. Lovely – Kane had dropped him a rope ladder. Recognizing the unspoken command, he let out a blustery sigh and wearily pulled himself up the ladder.

Kane stood watching him, his face impassive.

"You trying to kill me?" Gordon snarled.

"Not at all," Kane replied calmly. "This was just an exercise, and one that you were entirely qualified to handle. You passed, although your moment of panic in the beginning was unnecessary." He pulled the lever back up, and motors whirred as the two flaps of the floor began to rise. "In a few weeks, you'll be doing this with your hands cuffed behind your back. Now, I want you to get changed, eat something, and then rest. We have a job tonight."

"Already?" Gordon gasped. Somehow he had imagined that he wouldn't be leaving Kane's house for at least a few weeks.

Kane shrugged. "No sense in putting it off," he said. "Don't worry – it'll just be a minor theft tonight. It'll be a month or two before you'll be ready to start working on real crime."

Gordon shivered as he made his way back to his room, partly from his wet clothes, and partly from the knot of dread sitting heavily in his stomach.

Somehow he didn't think he was going to be able to eat anything.


	5. Chapter 5

_New York City_

 _March 9_

 _1:17 AM_

The leather seat of the sleek, black Maserati was undeniably comfortable, but Gordon couldn't make himself relax. He sat tensely, watching the familiar sights of the Big Apple roll past as Kane expertly navigated the thick city traffic.

It turned out that Kane's estate was situated less than two hours outside the city.

Now that Gordon knew where he was, he was able to do a quick time zone calculation in his head – something all of the brothers had quickly become adept at – and he decided that his family was probably just sitting down to dinner on Tracy Island. Well, assuming that they weren't out somewhere looking for him or performing a rescue.

He bit back a yawn – although he was used to working odd hours, that still didn't make him a night owl, and he was still catching up on lost sleep. He had at least managed to catch a short nap earlier in the evening, after taking an hour to spill his guts into the little notebook he'd found in the supply room. Writing everything out had been surprisingly therapeutic, and overall, he felt much calmer than he had that afternoon.

His stomach still fluttered uncomfortably every time he thought of what he was going to do that night, though. He wondered what Kane was going to have him steal – so far the man hadn't told him anything.

He sat up a little straighter, familiar landmarks catching his eye – if they continued the way they were going, they would pass right by his father's skyscraper.

At that moment, though, Kane turned down a side street, then began making lots of turns down smaller and smaller streets, until they finally ended up in an alley running behind some of the taller buildings in the neighborhood.

The knot in Gordon's stomach grew bigger with each turn, and when they drew to a stop near a large fire door marked "Tracy Industries," he felt sick. "No way," he groaned. "You have _got_ to be kidding me!"

Kane raised an eyebrow at him. "This is no joke. Actually, I selected this as an easy first target for you, since you are doubtless somewhat familiar with the layout of the building."

"But how do I get in?" Gordon protested. "If I use my security code, it'll show my name on the records! And I don't know any other way in – our security is good."

"Good, but not great," Kane amended. He held up a sheet of paper. "I have a contact on the inside who was able to get me a list of random security codes. Pick any code from this list."

Reluctantly, Gordon took the paper and scanned down the list of numbers. There were names next to some of them, and it occurred to him that anyone entering the building at one in the morning was likely to face an inquiry. He grimaced – he didn't want to get anyone in trouble.

But what if he picked someone who was sure to have an alibi? Looking over the names again, one caught his attention – Hiram Hackenbacker – and he almost smiled. Perfect! Brains was undoubtedly on the island, and who would question him if he had most of the Tracy family around to verify his whereabouts? As an added bonus, when Brains' code was used, and his alibi confirmed, then maybe security would start an investigation and find Kane's contact.

That decided, he memorized the number and passed the paper back to Kane. "Okay, what next?"

"You'll be going to sub-level B," Kane told him.

"Really?" Gordon asked, surprised. "But we only keep retired prototypes and failed projects down there."

"And because of that, security is lighter, making it a good starting point for you," Kane said. "You'll be looking for aisle twelve, section F. The item will be labeled T.I.P. #278. If it's dusty, try not to disturb the dust. Take the item and leave the box behind in the exact position you found it; the item should be small enough to fit in the large pocket on the side of your pants. Come straight back to the car once you have the item."

"What if I run into a security guard?"

"My advice – _don't_ ," Kane said shortly. "But if confrontation is unavoidable, take the guard down quickly and quietly – don't give him time to call for backup." He handed Gordon a tiny earpiece. "Put this in, but don't use it unless it's absolutely necessary. The less talk, the better – you never know who might be listening."

Gordon wiggled the earpiece into place, then glanced nervously toward the door, letting out a shaky sigh. "Okay," he said. "Here I go!"

He pulled his night vision goggles down over his eyes and stepped from the car, shivering slightly in the cool breeze. Trying to look confident, he strode toward the back door, turned the handle, and pulled.

The door didn't open.

In a moment of panic, Gordon was about to run back to the car and tell Kane that he couldn't get in – how _could_ he when the door was locked? – and then he remembered his lock-picking kit. _Well, duh._ Rolling his eyes, he fished the kit out of its pouch on his belt and unlocked the deadbolt.

He slipped inside and quickly entered Brains' security code into the beeping number pad on the wall. The beeping stopped, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Okay, so he was in. Now he just had to figure out how to get to the basement without being spotted by any guards. He'd never come in through the back door before; it was a little disorienting.

He was in what was probably the security guards' locker room; he walked to the first interior door and opened it a crack, peeking through. The next room was a large, open area stacked with boxes. A big garage door dominated the back wall; apparently this was where building supplies were delivered.

Spotting a flight of stairs at the far end of the room, he headed in that direction. There was a service elevator right next to the stairs, but he suspected that an elevator would be too loud and obvious.

He crept down the stairs, bypassing sub-level A and heading straight for B. There was another keypad at the door to the storage room, and he winced as he entered in the same code again. _Sorry, Brains…_

He didn't bother turning the lights on in the room; with his flashlight and goggles, he could see perfectly fine. He quickly found aisle twelve and hurried down the row until he came to section F. There he paused and looked up and down the ten-foot-tall shelves, marveling at the massive amount of _stuff_ harbored in Tracy Industries' basement. What did his father plan to _do_ with all of this?

His gaze came to rest on a small box a little below eye level, stamped in white letters with "T.I.P. #278."

"Aha," he murmured. "Gotcha!"

He stuck his flashlight between his teeth and, mindful of Kane's warning, he lifted the lid of the box by the very edges, trying not to leave any smears in the thick coating of dust. Nestled in foam padding inside the box was a small metal case. Gordon picked it up and tucked it into his pocket.

Just as he settled the dusty lid back in its place, all the lights in the room suddenly came on. Gordon thrust the flashlight into his pocket and crouched down low, pushing his goggles back up onto his forehead so that he wouldn't be blinded.

A voice spoke from the doorway. "This is Smith. Sub-level B all clear – oh, hang on…what do we have here?"

Gordon glanced behind him, wondering if he'd dropped something in the main aisle, but then his breath caught in his throat as he saw what the guard must have seen – Gordon had left a neat set of footprints in the dust on the floor, leading straight to his current position.

The guard was moving toward him, speaking as he walked. "Hey, Joe, I got footprints in here…we have a record of anyone coming in here lately?" The footsteps stopped as the radio squawked. "Oh, Hiram Hackenbacker? Five minutes ago, huh? Well, he's okay, but why didn't he have the lights on? No, he couldn't have left yet…the footprints only go in!"

Gordon tensed. He needed to move quickly. The guard would be coming around the corner in seconds.

Glad now for the soft tread of his shoes, Gordon ran lightly down the aisle away from the door. The rows of shelves didn't go all the way to the back wall of the room, so he was able to circle around toward the door.

In the end, it would have been no contest, even without panic lending speed to Gordon's feet. He left the guard huffing and puffing in his dust – literally – and dashed out the door with plenty of time to spare.

The stairs were nerve wracking – he expected more guards to come charging down at any moment. His fear was not unfounded; he was just passing the door to sub-level A when he heard shouts sounding at the top of the stairs. Frantically, he entered Brains' code into the level A door and ducked inside, holding his breath. A moment later, feet clattered down the stairs past his hiding spot, and he sighed in relief.

Once he heard the door below open and close, he leapt back out onto the landing and raced up the steps two at a time. As he reached the top, the men came boiling back out of sub-level B two stories below him, their voices echoing up through the stairwell.

Gordon wasted no time in dashing through the two remaining rooms and flinging himself at the number panel by the door to the outside, entering in Brains' code one more time.

The number pad turned red, the words "Invalid Code" flashing across its screen.

Gordon gasped. "No, no, no! Let me out!"

He mashed in the code again, but the number pad still would not accept it. Whoever was in the security control room must have disabled the code, he thought wildly. For one split second, his fingers hesitated over the pad as he considered putting in his own code, but then another idea occurred to him, and he spun around, running back out into the delivery room.

He raced straight to the huge garage door, and spotting a button on the wall next to it, smashed the controls with his fist. The big door lurched upward, and Gordon danced in place, waiting for it to lift high enough.

The door to the stairs crashed open just as Gordon slipped underneath the garage door, dropping off the loading dock onto the hard concrete. He looked around wildly for Kane's car, and his stomach lurched when he didn't see it. Had he messed up so badly that the man had abandoned him to the authorities?

But then the Maserati screeched to a halt in front of him. Gordon flung himself into the seat, and Kane stepped on the gas, snapping the door shut.

Kane guided the fast car expertly through narrow alleys and around tight corners for a few minutes until they were sure they weren't being followed. After a little while, they re-entered the city traffic and began the drive back toward Kane's house.

Neither of them had said a word yet.

Gordon was just concentrating on catching his breath while keeping his jaw clenched tightly so that his teeth wouldn't chatter from the shivers running all through his body. He didn't think he'd ever been so scared in his life…but he also felt strangely euphoric – he'd pitted himself against an entire security team, and had escaped with what he went in there for. At the time, he'd been terrified, but now that he was on the other side, he almost wished he could do it again.

Suddenly realizing where his thoughts were heading, he cut them off violently. _No!_ he told himself. _Don't let yourself think that way – you just took something that didn't belong to you…that is_ not _okay!_

Kane finally spoke up, making him jump. "Did you get it?" Kane asked.

Wordlessly, Gordon pulled the case from his pocket, slowly turning it over in his gloved hands as his emotions warred within him. To distract himself, he asked, "What is it?"

"What are _they_ , you mean," Kane said, not taking his eyes from the road. "Open the case."

Gordon obeyed, and saw a row of small round, black objects sitting in a foam pad. He picked one up, noticing that it had a backing like the lapel pins he'd worn in WASP.

"You can put one on your shirt or belt," Kane said. "They're essentially personal cloaking devices that will shield you from security cameras – they distort the frequencies around you so that the camera will only see a blur where you're standing. Obviously, they are the most beneficial for use around unmanned cameras, as an alert guard might pick up on a blur moving through his building, but they're still moderately useful little trinkets."

"So was this an abandoned project?" Gordon pinned one of the devices to his lapel. He wished it would make him invisible to people too, not just to cameras.

"No, it was a prototype. I believe that it has been modified for use in some branches of the military."

They didn't speak again for the rest of the drive back. As they pulled into the garage, Kane told Gordon, "You may sleep late, but I expect you to meet me in the training room at eleven." He got out of the car and swept away.

Gordon climbed out of the car more slowly, grimacing as his legs threatened to buckle when he stepped out – sprinting at top speed through a building and then sitting for two hours might not have been the best idea.

Trudging wearily to his room, he pulled off his hat and goggles and tossed them onto his dresser. He dropped onto the edge of his bed with a long sigh, rubbing his face.

He had done it – he had stolen.

He was officially a criminal now.

His stomach suddenly lurched, and he had to dash for the bathroom, where he puked miserably until there wasn't anything left to come up.

Eventually he staggered back to his bed and fell onto it, welcoming the oblivion of sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

_Journal_

 _March 9_

 _9:25 PM_

 _Slept till almost 11, had to hurry to make it to the training room on time. Not that I care what Kane thinks, but I'm not too eager to get body-slammed again. Hey, despite what Scott and Virg say, I am capable of learning. Just maybe not always the lessons they want me to learn._

 _Anyway, while we trained, Kane talked about the robbery. He thinks I should've taken that guard out first thing, and then I would've had more time to escape. Whatever. Robbery is one thing. Assault is something totally different. I'm staying away from that as long as I can. I just nodded a lot while Kane was talking, and he seemed happy. Well, as happy as he gets, which isn't saying much._

 _Then I went and got some lunch, and found out that there is a housekeeper – but I think he's not allowed to talk to me or something, because he wouldn't even really look at me. He just did some cleaning and then left. Oh well. I talked to him, even if he wouldn't talk to me._

 _This afternoon Kane showed me how to get past some kinds of electronic locks. It was a bit slower going than yesterday, because Parker never got to this stuff with me and Alan. Oh well. I just hope Kane doesn't chuck me in a pool with one of these – it'd probably short circuit and fry me or something._

 _Journal_

 _March 10_

 _5:13 AM_

 _So Kane woke me up at midnight and told me to get dressed and meet him in the training room. When I get there, he's holding a timer, and he says it took me three minutes, and I have to do one push-up for every second past the one-minute mark. So, 120 push-ups later, he sends me back to bed. Creep._

 _Journal_

 _March 11_

 _9:47 PM_

 _Kane took me out to his back yard today…and it turns out that he has a really awesome park-thingie set up for learning parkour/freerunning. Okay, so it feels weird to think that any part of Kane's training could be even remotely fun, but it was actually really cool! Not that I wouldn't rather be home, but hey, if I have to be stuck here for now, at least I know that not every second is going to be miserable._

 _Journal_

 _March 12_

 _5:22 AM_

 _Alan's birthday today. Happy Birthday, little bro…wish I could be there with you._

 _Tracy Island_

 _March 12_

 _7:00 AM_

Alan rolled over and slammed his fist down on his snooze button. He stared at the numbers on the clock and groaned, covering his head with his pillow. He'd been up until well after two searching for information about Kane – and, as with every previous search, he'd come up entirely empty-handed. It was like the man was a ghost. Even Parker hadn't been able to offer any additional information on the criminal.

The alarm began ringing again, and Alan turned it off completely this time, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. He sighed, suddenly remembering that today was his birthday.

When Grandma had cornered him the day before, asking what kind of cake he wanted, he had told her that he'd rather wait to celebrate his birthday until Gordon came home.

He thought that he had detected relief on the faces of his family members, and he couldn't blame them – though they would have tried their best to give him a nice birthday, no one felt like celebrating.

"It's my birthday, Gords," he said softly. "Wish you were here."

With a sigh, he got up and prepared for another long, frustrating day of searching for clues that might lead him to his missing best friend.

When he wandered out into the lounge a few minutes later, Scott and Virgil were arguing with John about something. Listening in, Alan determined that John had never gone to bed the night before because he'd gotten the brilliant idea to tap into all the security cameras in the entire U.S., programming them to recognize Kane and Gordon's faces. Apparently he'd already made it through Maine and a good chunk of New Hampshire. Now Scott and Virgil were trying to convince him that he really ought to get some sleep before tackling the other forty-eight states.

"Don't forget Canada – and Mexico," John mumbled, rubbing his hands over his face. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was a mess, and his uniform was rumpled. "Guys, I can't stop now! I've got – uh, I forget how many exactly – but, like, _millions_ of cameras still to go!"

"Don't make me come up there, John," Scott said sternly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Alan left them to it, heading to the kitchen for some breakfast. He shivered slightly as he entered the large, empty room. The house had an entirely different feel to it with Gordon gone, and he didn't like it one bit.

Further reducing the number of people on the island, their father had been called to New York to superintend the investigation of a break-in at Tracy Tower. He'd taken Brains along, since the security guards claimed that Brains' code had been used to gain access to the building. Apparently Brains had been under some level of suspicion, but of course, that had only lasted as long as it took Jeff Tracy to say, "That's ridiculous!"

Alan listlessly glanced through the fridge and cupboards before deciding he really wasn't very hungry. Coffee was an absolute necessity, though, and he grabbed a travel mug, planning to drink the coffee while working on his computer.

He popped the lid off – and nearly jumped out of his skin as something small and furry launched itself toward his face. He leapt backward and dropped the mug, letting out a yelp.

The furry object fell to the floor, and Alan saw that it was nothing other than a fake mouse that had been spring-loaded into the cup.

" _Gordon_ ," he muttered, torn between amusement and sorrow.

Setting the fake mouse on the counter, he picked up the mug and poured his coffee into it. He wondered how many pranks Gordon had left around the house…and how long it would take until he and his brothers stopped finding them.

Somehow the idea of the pranks eventually running out wasn't a happy thought at all.


	7. Chapter 7

_Kane's Villa_

 _March 21_

 _4:34 AM_

Gordon stood in the middle of his room, staring longingly toward his bed. He knew that if he lay down, he'd never get around to taking a shower, though, and he was grimy enough that a shower was non-negotiable.

Sadly, no matter how much hot water and soap he used, he could never wash away the nagging guilt that had begun to constantly sit in the back of his mind.

So far, after he'd stolen the tiny cloaking devices, he'd committed three other robberies. For his second act of crime, he had stolen a sheaf of papers full of incriminating information concerning some associate of Kane's. Gordon wasn't clear whether Kane wanted the papers to protect his fellow criminal or to use them as blackmail.

A few days later, Gordon had successfully disabled the security system of a mansion and stolen a valuable coin collection. He'd nearly been caught when a yippy little dog had started barking at him. Afterward, Kane had advised him to always research whether there were any pets before robbing a private residence – or at least, always keep dog treats in one of the pouches on his belt.

Gordon and Kane had just gotten back from their latest expedition. They had flown to Philadelphia in Kane's helijet, taking advantage of a huge fire in part of the city to rob a museum.

"Disasters can be highly advantageous for criminals," Kane had told him. "People are so focused on the big problem that they forget to watch for other things going on around them. Police forces are stretched thin and take longer to respond to alarms. Occasionally the disaster will even do some of the work for us, knocking out the power or breaking through vault walls, for example."

Gordon wondered whether the arrival of International Rescue on a scene exacerbated the crime problem – their ships were rather attention-grabbing, after all, and they often utilized a large number of police officers for crowd and traffic control.

He added the thought to a mental list of things to discuss with his family when he returned home eventually. The list seemed to be getting longer every day; he was still getting used to the idea that he couldn't just wander into one of his brothers' rooms for a chat, or call John up, or ask his father to go for a stroll on the beach with him.

His eyes were drifting shut; he shook himself out of his thoughts and headed for the shower. As he took off his watch, the date caught his attention, and he grimaced – had it really only been two weeks since he'd agreed to train under Kane? It felt more like it had been a year.

 _Kane's Villa_

 _March 21_

 _12:02 PM_

Kane watched from a video camera as Gordon began to prepare himself some scrambled eggs. Seeing his young apprentice's mechanical movements, Kane frowned. Gordon wasn't settling into his new role as quickly as Kane would have liked. After two weeks, he had hoped that his apprentice would be beginning to relax and to appreciate the challenge of his training.

What was more, he had thought that Gordon would actually begin to _enjoy_ himself.

All he had told Gordon about why he had chosen him was true – out of all of his brothers, Gordon seemed to be the most resilient, the most qualified, the most determined.

But there was one thing that Kane hadn't told Gordon – something that had actually been the deciding factor for him in selecting Gordon as his apprentice. Kane had to admit to himself that he hadn't even fully identified the concept until after he had begun training Gordon.

Unfortunately, it was a trait that had all but disappeared in his young apprentice over the past two weeks, and it was all the more noticeable because of its absence.

The trait? An almost overwhelming sense of life, of vitality, of energy…and of _fun_. Kane had observed it multiple times before he had taken Gordon as he had watched the aquanaut interacting with his family. But since Gordon had come to train under him, Kane had only caught brief flashes of that energy – and the occurrences seemed to be getting less frequent.

It was as if the darkness of the villa – and of Kane himself – had begun to suck the light out of Gordon Tracy, and if he was entirely honest with himself, Kane wasn't sure he liked the change.

 _Kane's Villa_

 _March 21_

 _12:59 PM_

As they were walking down the hallway after lunch, Gordon noticed Kane glancing at him with an odd expression on his face. After a moment, the man spoke, his tone strangely hesitant. "Gordon," he began, then stopped.

Curious, Gordon prompted, "Yeah?"

Kane frowned ferociously, and it seemed as though he was forcing the words out when he asked, "Do you think that you will ever be…er, _happy_ here?"

For a second, just the fact that Kane was even capable of saying the word "happy" had Gordon floored, but then the question itself sank in, and suddenly white-hot anger flooded Gordon's vision. Before he knew what he was doing, he had Kane backed against the wall and was shouting into his face. "Happy?" he cried. " _Happy?_ What did you do, fail Basic Humanity 101? Of course I'm never gonna be happy here – you've taken away everyone and everything that I care about, you're holding me prisoner by threatening my family, and you're making me live a life that goes entirely against my sense of morality! What kind of stupid question is that?"

And for one brief moment, something entirely foreign flashed through Kane's eyes – was that… _sadness_? – before they went back to glowing with their normal imperious light, and the criminal's face darkened with anger.

Gordon suspected that sparring would not be much fun that day...but it felt kind of nice to have spoken his mind for once.


	8. Chapter 8

_Los Angeles_

 _March 24_

 _3:52 AM_

Alan made a quick circuit of the upper offices of the earthquake-damaged bank. Coming out on the balcony, he spotted Scott below and leaned over the railing to call out, "The upstairs is all clear."

"So is the downstairs," Scott replied. "Come on down, and let's check the next building."

Alan turned around – and jerked to a halt when he suddenly came face-to-face with a black-clad figure just exiting one of the offices. "Uh, hi," he said slowly, wondering if he should holler for Scott or try to take the guy down himself.

The thief just stood there, frozen with one hand slipping something into one of the pouches on his belt, staring at him through a pair of green night-vision goggles. "Hi," he said cautiously after a long moment. He seemed to shake himself then, and added, "And bye!" He snapped his pouch shut and trotted toward the stairs.

"Hey, wait, did you just steal something?" Alan exclaimed. "Scott, stop him – he's a thief!"

Spotting Scott charging up the stairs, the thief spun around and dashed back toward Alan.

Alan braced himself to fight, but the thief neatly dodged his half-hearted attempt to block him. As he brushed past, Alan could have sworn he heard the muttered words, "No fair siccing Scotty on me!"

Alan suddenly felt lightheaded, and apparently it showed on his face, because instead of pursuing the thief, Scott skidded to a halt and grabbed Alan by the shoulders.

"Alan, are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

Alan stared wide-eyed at Scott. "Scott," he whispered. "I – I think…that that was _Gordon_."

 _Los Angeles_

 _March 24_

 _3:56 AM_

Gordon was shaking by the time he got back to Kane's car. He dropped into the passenger seat, and as the vehicle lurched away, Gordon ripped off his hat and goggles, flinging them to the floor.

"You knew, didn't you?" he snarled. "You knew they'd be there! How could you do that to me?"

Kane shrugged. "I'd heard that International Rescue had been called to the scene, but considering the number of buildings affected, you have to admit that the chance of you running into any of your brothers was slim at best."

"You could've at least given me a heads up," Gordon fumed.

"And have you distracted while you were doing your job?" Kane countered. "No, I think not." He glanced toward Gordon briefly. "In any case, I was pleased that you had the sense to get out of there quickly, but I have to say that I was rather less pleased when you chose to speak to Alan. You realize, of course, that your family now knows that you have become a thief."

Gordon shrugged and slumped back into his seat in sullen silence. He didn't know why he had said anything to Alan. He did know that even while he was speaking, he had been desperately wishing that he _could_ let Scott catch him.

 _Tracy Island_

 _March 25_

 _2:43 AM_

Despite the late hour, Jeff, Scott, Virgil and Alan were sitting in the lounge, with John present through his portrait. All wore the same grim, worried expression.

"Play it again, Alan," Jeff said.

Alan hit a button on the remote, and they all watched the security camera recording of the Tracy Tower break-in a couple weeks earlier. There were a lot of blind spots, but security had tacked together the bits where the thief was visible, creeping around corners as he entered the building, and then sprinting on his way out.

"I told you, he looks exactly like the guy I saw in the bank," Alan said. "It's Gordon. I know it is."

John had hacked into the bank's security cameras, but the thief had only showed up as a blur. Alan had been quick to point out that the object stolen from Tracy Tower was a case of tiny cloaking devices, tying the two crimes together even more definitively.

"I just wish we had a good close-up of his face," Scott said, his eyes fastened to the screen.

Virgil let out a short, sharp sigh. "So, let's just say for a minute that this _is_ Gordon. _Why_ is he stealing things? What could this Kane guy have possibly done to him to turn him into a thief? I mean, this is _Gordon_ we're talking about – he doesn't just give in to something he doesn't believe in."

"Maybe Kane brainwashed him somehow," Alan suggested.

"I think it's more likely that Gordon is being blackmailed," Jeff said. "Perhaps Kane is threatening to reveal our family's identity if Gordon doesn't do what he asks."

"Or maybe he even told Gordon he'd kill us," John put in. "Maybe when he bumped into each of us, it was a demonstration to Gordon of how easily he could get to us."

"Okay, so we have some theories," Scott growled. "Now, let's get back to the main point – how do we get Gordon away from this creep?"

"We could set something up – advertise something valuable on display, for example – and then wait for them to show up," Alan suggested.

"We're not really sure what Kane goes after, though," John pointed out. "I mean, do we even know what Gordon took tonight? He was in an office, not the vault, right? And you said he was holding something small, so it could have been a memory chip or something. Maybe Kane tends to collect information rather than valuable objects."

Jeff looked thoughtful as an idea came to him. "With a little work, we might be able to trace Kane's recent activity," he said. "John, can you run a search on break-ins since March ninth that show a blur on the security tapes?"

John's face lit up. "I can do that," he said, and immediately began typing.

Jeff had a twinkle in his eye. "I have a bit of ace in the hole that I've been saving for something special," he said. "When we conducted that investigation on the Tracy Tower break-in, we identified the mole in our security system. We didn't let on, though, in the hopes that he would lead us to whoever he's working for. Now, based on what we've learned tonight, I highly suspect that he's a contact for Kane. If we can learn what tends to attract Kane, then we may be able to feed our mole information that would draw Kane – and Gordon – back to Tracy Tower."

"And we'll be waiting for them," Scott said grimly. "We'll teach this Kane guy what happens when you mess with a Tracy!"

 _Kane's Villa_

 _March 25_

 _6:12 AM_

Gordon was having trouble imagining under what conceivable circumstances he might have to use a hand spring during a fight.

"What is this, Power Rangers?" Gordon muttered under his breath, as Kane demonstrated the move he wanted him to try. He raised his voice and asked, "When am I ever gonna need to turn into a gymnast in the middle of a fist fight?"

Kane backed up to the edge of the floor mat. "I'll show you. Run toward me!"

Gordon shook his head doubtfully, but obeyed. When he was halfway across the mat, Kane launched himself forward into a handspring, and Gordon suddenly found himself running straight toward a pair of feet. He skidded to a halt just as Kane landed practically on top of him.

Kane used Gordon's momentum against him, hooking a foot behind his leg and shoving him. Gordon thudded heavily to the floor.

Groaning, Gordon pushed himself back up to his feet.

Kane crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not saying you're likely to use such a move often, but if you ever need to take a fast-moving opponent off guard and get into his space quickly, I've found a hand spring to be a highly effective technique."

"Okay, okay," Gordon grumbled, rubbing his hip. "Show me how to do it. I call dibs on the yellow suit, though!"

Kane cast him a quizzical glance, but otherwise ignored the comment.

Within an hour, despite his earlier misgivings, Gordon was not only hand springing, but also cart-wheeling and somersaulting.

"You would have been a good gymnast," Kane told him at the end of their session.

Gordon grimaced, rolling his shoulders. His years of swimming had given him strong shoulders, but he was pretty sure that he'd worked some muscles today that he'd never known were there before. "I don't think it comes as naturally as swimming did," he replied. "Gymnastics is okay, but swimming just…feels right."

He'd been squeezing in bits of time here and there in the pool Kane had installed for him. More times than he could remember, swimming had been the only thing that had kept his head screwed on straight, so he was particularly glad to still be able to have that outlet while training under Kane.

They parted ways at an intersection in the hallway. Kane had given Gordon a pile of maps, blueprints and photographs of an art gallery the day before and told him to write up a plan of how he would steal a certain painting. Gordon entered the room and sighed as he looked down at the stack of papers on the table. Somehow, he'd never imagined that a criminal-in-training would have homework.


	9. Chapter 9

_Tracy Tower_

 _March 30_

 _2:11 AM_

A distant part of Gordon's mind was amused as he looked at his watch and registered the time – wasn't "211" old police code for a robbery? – but most of his concentration was focused on what he was going to be doing in a few minutes: breaking into Tracy Tower again.

The mole in the Tracy Industries security company had apparently come across information juicy enough to break the period of silence Kane had recommended as a precaution after the investigation into the theft a few weeks earlier. A prototype Kane had been keeping an eye on had completed its testing early and had been put in the same basement storage room Gordon had visited before.

Kane had jumped at the opportunity. This time, he had prepared Gordon far better for his foray, walking him through pages and pages of blueprints and diagrams, pointing out blind spots in the security cameras' field of vision, alternate escape routes, and places he could hide from the guards.

Gordon had asked why Kane hadn't shown him all this the first time he'd gone in the building.

"It would have been too much for you to absorb," Kane had replied. "You needed a simple in-and-out job to get started with. That first night, I was counting on your fighting ability to get you out should you run into trouble. Now that you've grown into the role a little more, I can give you more possibilities to think through. You should be grateful – with more alternatives, you're less likely to have to fight."

As they had studied the blueprints, though, Kane had grown quiet and thoughtful. A frown started on his face, and only continued to deepen as they gathered equipment and drove into the city.

When they were a block away from Tracy Tower, Kane pulled into a parking space and sat silently for a few minutes. Finally, he turned to Gordon.

"This may be a trap," he told him bluntly.

Gordon's eyebrows rose. "Okay…"

"It's too much of a coincidence," Kane said. "This prototype was scheduled for testing well into next year. Why would they suddenly stop testing and move it to the basement?"

Gordon shrugged. "Hey, I've been around enough inventors to know that sometimes there's a curveball that no one could have predicted. Maybe they discovered a major, unexpected problem and decided to ditch the project. Or, who knows – it could even have been as simple as a patent issue."

Kane drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for another minute, then apparently came to a decision. He pulled a tiny clip-on camera from his pocket and handed it to Gordon. "Wear this," he said. "I'll be watching, and I may speak up if I see anything that looks off."

Gordon clipped the camera to his lapel. Gesturing to the cloaking device attached to his other lapel, he asked, "Are these going to interfere with each other?"

A rare smile quickly flashed across Kane's expression. "Good question," he said. "They will not."

Gordon barely managed to keep the surprise from showing on his face – a smile _and_ praise from Kane? Was the criminal starting to go soft or something?

Kane was talking again. "I don't have a code for you this time, so you'll need to override the number pad. You remember the trick to that model?"

Gordon nodded.

Kane was silent for one more long moment, and then he sighed. "All right. It's a go. Just stay alert in there."

He pulled the car back into traffic and made his way through the alleys to the back of Tracy Tower, stopping near the back door.

"Aisle nine, section M, T.I.P. number 382," Kane told him.

"Got it," Gordon replied. He stepped from the car and strode to the back door, marveling at the difference a little experience made – he still had a few nervous butterflies in his stomach, but nothing compared to the last time he had been there.

He quickly picked the deadbolt and slipped inside, glancing around to make sure he was alone in the room before tackling the beeping number pad. Thanks to Kane's endless drills, he had the cover off and the correct wires crossed in just seconds.

"Not bad," a soft voice said through his earpiece, making him jump.

Gordon rolled his eyes. Okay, the earpiece could take a little getting used to. "Thanks," he muttered dryly.

Replacing the cover of the number pad, he crept through the huge shipment room and down the stairs, keeping to the cameras' blind spots as much as possible – even though he was wearing the cloaking device, he didn't want the blur on the screen to catch the attention of the guards.

Stopping in front of the door to sub-level B, he disabled the number pad and ducked inside the room.

Someone had cleaned the floors, he noticed immediately. He was glad that he wouldn't get caught the same way as before, but a little shiver rippled down his spine as it occurred to him that it was a two-way street – anyone could be with him in the room, and there weren't any tell-tale footprints to give their presence away.

He shoved that thought aside and hurried straight to aisle nine, then followed the letters all the way down to section M, which was near the back wall. He scanned up one row of numbers, then down the next, and frowned as his eyes skipped straight from 381 to 383. He looked again.

"Huh…uh, Kane, I don't see it," he murmured. "You said 382, right?"

There was a moment's pause, and then Kane said firmly, "I don't like this at all. Gordon, something's not right. Get back out here _now_!"

Gordon shrugged. "Okay. See you in a minute."

Before he could take a step back toward the door, though, all the lights flickered on, illuminating the whole room.

"Not again," Gordon groaned under his breath. Crouching down low and pushing his goggles up onto his hat, he listened for the guard, preparing to move quickly and quietly in case the man checked each aisle.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice spoke from directly behind him.

"Looking for this?"

Gordon spun around, standing as he did so, and he suddenly lost the ability to breathe when he found himself looking straight into his oldest brother's face.

Scott's face was stern, his eyes packed full of too many emotions to identify as he looked Gordon up and down. After a moment, his mouth quirked in a humorless little smile, and he held up a cardboard box stamped "T.I.P. # 382." He tossed it over his shoulder, and it hit the ground with a hollow thump.

"We set a trap for a thief," Scott said softly. "Looks like it worked."

Gordon flinched – he didn't know if Scott had meant for those words to sting, but they really did.

Virgil stepped up to Scott's side, and Gordon's heart did something strange in his chest when his next-oldest brother wouldn't meet his eyes. Virgil just glanced quickly toward Gordon, then fastened his gaze on the floor, his face pale and set.

Gordon heard movement behind him – probably his other brothers coming down the aisle to block his escape in that direction. He wondered if his father was in the building too.

He swallowed hard as he looked at Scott, trying to think of something – _anything_ – to say...but all the emotions he'd kept canned up for the past three weeks were welling up inside him, and the words couldn't push past them. Looming up in the forefront of his mind was an overwhelming sense of shame. How must this look to his brothers? He couldn't tell what they were thinking, but it couldn't be good – after all, he'd broken into their father's building and made his way straight into the trap they'd set. What if they thought he was committing crimes willingly? He ducked his head. "Guys, I…I…"

A sharp voice spoke in his ear, cutting into his concentration. " _Gordon_! Do _not_ stop to talk! Get out of there _now_!"

Before Kane stopped speaking, Scott stepped forward, pulling Gordon's attention back in his direction.

"Gordon," Scott said quietly. "Forget what I said a minute ago. We know you're not doing this of your own free will. Come home with us – we can protect you from this guy! You know we can!" He took another step closer, cautiously reaching toward Gordon. "C'mon, Gords," he whispered, his blue eyes pleading.

There was nothing Gordon wanted more than to let that strong hand close around his arm, but he knew that he couldn't let that happen. He took a quick step back out of Scott's reach, his heart breaking as he saw the flash of hurt cross his oldest brother's face.

Virgil finally looked up then, his shoulders straightening as if he had won an internal battle. "We miss you, Gordon," he said simply.

The depth of the emotion in his most expressive brother's eyes froze Gordon in place, and for one long moment, he couldn't have moved if he had wanted to.

"Gordon!" Kane's voice snapping his name jerked him back to reality, and he shook his head violently, his breath coming faster.

Hearing the footsteps behind him shuffle closer, he spun around.

Alan and John stood a couple yards down the aisle. John looked perfectly calm; only someone who knew him as well as Gordon did would notice the tiny lines of strain around his eyes and mouth, or catch the glint of worry hidden well below the surface of those deep blue eyes. He nodded to Gordon. "Hey, Squirt," he said. "Nice to see you."

The nickname made Gordon flinch. He didn't deserve affectionate nicknames any more. Reluctantly, he turned his gaze toward his only younger brother.

In contrast to John, Alan was an open book, his face full of pain as he met Gordon's eyes. He forced a grin. "I keep finding your pranks," he said. His voice wobbled a bit. "And I keep wondering when they're going to run out." He took a shaky breath. "Please come home, Gordon."

A bone-deep shudder ran through Gordon's body, and his breath hitched in his throat as he tried to keep all the words from exploding out of him. There was nothing in the world he'd like better than to go home, to forget that any of this had ever happened. He wanted to shout at the top of his voice, to tell Kane to get out of his life and leave him alone. He wanted to take Scott up on his offer of protection.

Unfortunately, Gordon wasn't the one who needed protection.

That was the whole problem.

Kane spoke again in his ear, and as soon as Gordon heard the deadly soft tone, he flinched – he knew exactly what the man was going to say.

" _Gordon_ ," Kane murmured. "You know what I have in my hand right now, don't you? My thumb is on the button…and you're the only one who can stop me from pushing it. It's up to _you_ to save your brothers, and the only way you can do that is by leaving them and coming back to me _right now_."

Gordon's shoulders hunched, and his fingers went automatically to the earpiece. "But they won't let me leave," he said desperately, wishing that that was a legitimate excuse, even though he knew it wasn't.

Kane knew it too. "Then fight them!" he snapped. "Do whatever you have to in order to get away. Remember – if they succeed in detaining you, they _die_."

A white-hot flame of anger leapt up in Gordon's chest, and he growled, " _Fine_. You win this round. But you'd better watch your back, Kane, 'cause one of these days, the shoe's gonna be on the other foot! Gordon over and out."

Gordon straightened and turned to face Scott again. Something went hard and cold inside him, leaving no room for emotions except for a few stubborn shards that poked at the very core of his soul and made each breath painful. "I'm sorry, but I've gotta go," he said firmly.

Shock jolted across Scott and Virgil's faces, as if they had truly believed that if they just talked to Gordon, everything would end up okay, and he'd simply go home with them.

Scott recovered quickly, his eyes turning to steel. "As if we'd let you leave," he growled. "You're coming with us, Kiddo!"

And suddenly he was rushing Gordon, and for the life of him, Gordon could only think of one move that had the slightest chance of stopping his unstoppable brother.

He launched himself forward into a hand spring, and his timing was perfect. He landed right in his startled brother's space and flipped Scott to the ground with a tremendous crash and a great whoosh of expelled air.

Virgil's eyes widened as Gordon stepped toward him, but then he set his jaw and planted himself in the middle of the aisle, arms spread wide.

Gordon's mind raced; he could take Virgil down in a heartbeat, sure, but he really didn't want to – somehow, he instinctively knew that it if he hit Virgil, it wouldn't be the physical pain of the blow that would bother his artistic brother…it would be the psychological pain.

Gordon glanced toward the rows of shelves on either side, and they suddenly reminded him of part of Kane's parkour course. Seizing the inspiration, he changed direction and clambered up the shelves instead of trying to get past Virgil.

"Hey!" Virgil shouted, scrambling to try to catch up.

Gordon reached the top and stood up; the metal ceiling girders were still six feet over his head. Turning to orient himself, he began sprinting down the top of the shelf toward the door, but then skidded to a halt as Alan climbed up and blocked his path.

He grimaced – no way was he fighting his younger brother. He glanced down into the next aisle, wondering if he could climb down that side, but John had just rounded one corner, and Virgil was racing down the aisle from the other end.

He eyed the gap between aisles, judging the distance. It was probably six feet across – no problem. Backing up a bit to give himself a running start, he made the jump and landed neatly, skidding a little in the thick layer of dust that coated the tops of the shelves.

Alan didn't hesitate to follow him, and Gordon winced as his little brother tried the jump from a standing start.

Then his heart leapt into his throat as he watched Alan's foot slip, and saw his baby brother begin to tumble head-first toward the concrete floor ten feet below. As if in slow motion, he saw John and Virgil race forward faster, but he knew that they wouldn't get there in time.

"Alan!" he cried.

All of his big brother instincts kicked in, and he dove off the shelf, firing his magnetic grappling gun toward the ceiling at the same moment. He engaged the brake on the line and swung forward, crashing into Alan just before they would have hit the floor. The impact felt terrible but he told himself that it had to be better than falling directly onto the concrete. They smashed to the floor with him on the bottom, and the force of the fall jerked the handle of the grappling gun from his grip, stinging his fingertips even through his gloves. He and Alan tumbled end over end a couple times, finally bumping to a halt against John's legs.

Then John and Virgil were pulling them to their feet, brushing the dust off their clothes and demanding to know whether they were all right, and for one split second Gordon was under the mind-bending illusion that he was just on a normal rescue with his brothers, and that he and Alan were about to be scolded for pulling some crazy stunt.

But then Virgil paused in brushing him off, and John's worried questions stopped, and Gordon looked up to see three pairs of eyes regarding him as if they had suddenly noticed a stranger standing in their midst.

And then Gordon remembered that rescuing Alan would be pointless if he didn't quickly make his escape. So he wrenched his arm free before Virgil's gradually tightening grip could reach its full strength. He spun around, ducked under John's hand before it could snatch his collar, and barely dodged Scott's lunge at the end of the aisle.

Then he was sprinting toward the door. He skidded through and ripped the panel off the number pad, frantically crossing a couple wires.

A second later the doorknob rattled loudly, and then there was an angry thumping from the other side of the door as his brothers realized that he'd locked them in.

It wouldn't take them long to break the door down, Gordon realized. He raced up the stairs, through the shipping room and into the locker room. Since he'd already disabled that number pad, he simply reached for the doorknob to the outside.

"Gordon."

The quiet voice froze him in his tracks, and he turned slowly, his hand still on the door knob.

His father stood a few feet away, watching him with a look of such mingled love and sadness that Gordon's throat immediately closed.

Gordon made himself meet Jeff Tracy's eyes. He slowly shook his head, unable to come up with any words, and desperately hoped that he wouldn't have to try to fight his way past his father too.

As if he had read Gordon's mind, Jeff said, "I'm not going to try to stop you, Gordon. I trust you, and I know that you must have a good reason for what you're doing. We'll keep trying to work on a solution from our end." He attempted to smile. "And, son? Never forget that we all love you, and we can't wait until the day you can come home again."

Gordon couldn't breathe past the lump in his throat. Blinking away moisture from his eyes, he managed one short, sharp nod that didn't even come close to covering all that he _wanted_ to say, and then he ducked out the door and disappeared into the night.


	10. Chapter 10

_Tracy Tower_

 _March 30_

 _3:30 AM_

"Did you see the hand spring?" Alan demanded.

Scott ignored him, crossing his arms over his chest. "He had an earpiece, Dad – you could tell when Kane was talking to him." His voice was flat and hard.

John and Virgil exchanged a glance; they knew that Scott was barely holding it together. Seeing the sheer misery on Gordon's face had been hard on all of them, but Scott seemed to be taking their failure to catch their aquanaut brother personally.

Unfortunately, Alan was less adept at reading Scott, and he was blowing off steam by turning into a chatterbox.

"Seriously, did _anyone_ see the hand spring?" Alan repeated loudly.

Scott growled and crossed over to Alan in one long step, grabbing him by the upper arms. "Yes, Alan," he snapped. "I saw the hand spring. And I _felt_ the hand spring, and I really want you to stop talking about it now."

He let go, and Alan stepped back, his face becoming sullen. "I just thought it was cool, that's all," he muttered. "It's like Gordon's turning into a Power Ranger or something." His face fell. "An evil Power Ranger, that is."

Their father looked confused, and John explained, "It's a dorky TV show they used to watch."

"Hey, you watched it with us sometimes," Alan retorted. "Admit it – you always wanted to be the blue Ranger!"

John's face reddened, but before he could reply, Jeff held up his hand for silence.

"Focus, boys," he said softly. "Arguing won't help Gordon. Now, let's head up to my office and see if we can summarize what we know about Gordon's situation."

Weary and discouraged, they headed for the elevator.

 _Kane's Villa_

 _March 30_

 _8:17 AM_

Gordon wandered down the hallway, feeling like something the cat had dragged in. It was much earlier than he normally got up on the day after a theft, and he hadn't been able to sleep at all – every time he closed his eyes, his vision was filled with his brothers' faces, their expressions ranging from hurt and confused to angry and accusing.

His father's words would replay through his mind then, soothing his ragged soul and giving him hope. They still loved him. They still trusted him. They were just waiting for him to come home.

He _needed_ to get home soon, he thought desperately. The encounter a few hours earlier had shown him that there was already a gap forming between him and his brothers, and it scared him. They didn't know how to interact with him, and he was afraid that if he didn't get back to them soon, the change would be permanent.

He slouched into the kitchen – but then he suddenly snapped upright as the focus of his entire being zoomed in on one small object sitting on the counter: the remote control.

Before his mind had even fully caught up to what he was seeing, his body was carrying him forward, and he let out an involuntary gasp as his fingers actually closed around the remote.

He stood there for a moment, just staring down at the object sitting in the palm of his hand, his mind frozen and yet racing with ideas at the same time. What should he do now?

A car, he thought wildly – he needed to get away fast, before Kane discovered that he'd found the remote. And a phone, so he could call his family and have them meet him somewhere.

His heart suddenly turned to ice in his chest as he thought of something – suppose Kane had some other way to activate the nanites inside his brothers?

Okay, so he had to talk to Brains first, and get the scientist working on some way to extract the nanites, just in case.

All right, so he had a plan, meaning it was past time to get moving. He spun toward the door – and then recoiled as he came face to face with Kane.

Kane's eyes were cold and hard. He held out his hand. "I'll take that," he said sternly.

Gordon took a step back. "I don't think so," he ground out. He quickly tucked the remote into one of the pouches on his belt.

Kane didn't wait for Gordon to assume a defensive stance before he lunged toward him, diving in with a powerful straight punch.

Gordon dodged just in time, Kane's fist just barely grazing his jaw. Continuing the motion of ducking to the side, Gordon tucked in his shoulder and dropped into a roll, bouncing back up to his feet a couple yards away.

Kane closed the gap between them with a hand spring, but Gordon had learned his lesson and met Kane with a fierce uppercut before the criminal could transfer his energy into a shove or a kick.

Kane staggered backward, and Gordon dashed for the door to the hallway.

He only made it a few feet down the hall before he heard Kane catching up. Not wanting to be tackled – wrestling wasn't his strong suit – he waited until Kane was almost on top of him, and then skidded to a halt, ducking under Kane's outstretched arm as he did so.

With lightning reflexes, Kane pivoted and immediately whirled into a high roundhouse kick, slamming his foot into Gordon's chest.

The impact threw Gordon backward, and stars flashed in front of his eyes as he bounced off the wall. He stiffened his knees to keep from falling and blinked rapidly to try to clear his vision, knowing that his opponent would be quick to press his advantage.

Sure enough, Kane rushed in with a series of quick punches that had Gordon backing away, barely getting his arms up in time to block each blow.

Gordon smacked up against the wall again. Startled, he dropped his guard for a split second, and Kane immediately crowded into his space, winding him with a gut punch and then wrapping his fingers around Gordon's throat.

He tightened his grip just enough that Gordon's breathing became a harsh wheeze. "Give it up, Gordon," he growled. Keeping his grip on Gordon's throat with one hand, he reached down with the other hand toward the pouch holding the remote.

Gordon snorted. "Funny," he gasped out. "I thought you picked me because I _don't_ give up!" He jammed his thumbnail under Kane's nail as hard as he could, and as the man jerked his hand back with an involuntary hiss of pain, Gordon snapped his head down, smashing his forehead against the bridge of Kane's nose.

Once again, Kane was sent staggering backward, his hand going automatically to his nose as it began to gush blood.

While his opponent was off balance, Gordon pushed off from the wall and dove after him, kicking and punching Kane anywhere he had an opening. For about ten seconds, Gordon had the exhilarating thought that he might actually be able win the battle.

Then he backed Kane up against the opposite wall, and the solid smack seemed to jolt the criminal out of his slightly-dazed state. Suddenly Kane's eyes blazed with anger, and he planted his feet, neatly blocking the punch that Gordon had intended to be his final blow. Gordon's hand hit the stone wall instead.

And then the tide of the battle turned, and Kane was brushing past Gordon's defenses as if they didn't exist, hammering him with blow after blow until his ribs were aching and he could barely draw in a breath.

He saw the final blow coming, and he knew he couldn't block it, but he tried anyway. The wide, swinging punch caught him full on the point of the chin, snapping his head back and sending him flying backward. He was out cold before he hit the floor.

 _Journal_

 _March 31_

 _6:02 AM_

 _Can hardly move today, after everything that happened yesterday – the big fight, and then Kane making me spar and do other exercises ALL DAY LONG as punishment. And oh, yeah – I did all that_ after _breaking into Tracy Tower, running from my brothers, saving Alan from falling, and then not getting any sleep. I never got a chance to eat anything, either. Kane says it serves me right. Wish I could do something that served HIM right._

 _Journal_

 _April 2_

 _10:52 PM_

 _Not much time to think lately…I think Kane's keeping me busy on purpose so I won't think about my family. Sorry, Kane – it's never going to work!_

 _Journal_

 _April 4_

 _5:22 AM_

 _Scotty's birthday today. I actually have a present stashed away for him in my room at home…too bad he'll probably never find it. Man, I could really go for some birthday cake right now…_

 _Journal_

 _April 5_

 _2:57 AM_

 _Just got back from stealing some important diamond from a jewelry store. Kane says I'm improving. I asked him if it's really possible to say I'm improving when I'm actually getting worse – like, as in, doing worse crimes. He just looked at me weird._

 _Journal_

 _April 10_

 _4:39 PM_

 _Kane had me drive the Maserati today. Don't tell Alan I said this, but I don't think sports cars are all they're cracked up to be. On a semi-related note, I've never seen anyone's face turn the color that Kane's did when I dented the fender against that telephone pole. Anyway, gotta go – Kane said that he wanted to do an extra sparring session today._

 _Journal_

 _April 10_

 _5:56 PM_

 _Ouch. The Maserati has been avenged._

 _Journal_

 _April 20_

 _11:01 PM_

 _Kane was a grouch today – as usual. I'm starting to wonder if I'll ever see another friendly face again. Hang on…okay, just found yellow spray paint in Kane's supply room and painted a smiley face on my wall. That helps a bit, I guess. Well, not really, actually, but I can pretend that it does, anyway._

 _Kane's Villa_

 _April 29_

 _8:42 PM_

Kane glanced toward the computer screen, frowning as the video feed showed Gordon plowing endlessly back and forth across his pool. In the weeks since the encounter with his family and the big fight over the remote control, Gordon had been distant and quiet, and had spent nearly every free minute swimming – even though Kane had packed his schedule full to try to distract him.

Kane was beginning to grow concerned that Gordon would make himself ill if he didn't get some rest soon.

Telling himself that the only reason he cared was because it would interrupt his training schedule if Gordon got sick, he walked to the pool room and slipped inside, waiting by the wall until Gordon slowed down and finally stopped, hanging onto the edge of the pool and gasping for breath.

Gordon spotted him after a moment and stiffened. He pushed off the side of the pool and swam to the ladder, wearily pulling himself up out of the water.

Kane handed him his towel, and Gordon took it reluctantly, turning his back to him while drying off.

"You've been pushing too hard lately, Gordon," Kane told him. "I want you to go to bed early and take tomorrow off. Take a car, go to the city, visit the ocean – whatever you want to do. Obviously, stay away from Tracy Tower, and don't try to contact anyone you know, but otherwise, the day is yours. You'll find normal clothes on your dresser."

He turned and left the room, ignoring Gordon's shocked expression.

If he was honest with himself, he had to admit that he was looking forward to a day off himself…he really needed to get a grip on his feelings toward his apprentice before he did something that he knew he would regret.

Stepping back into his security room, he caught a glimpse of Gordon in his room, holding up a soft, colorful T-shirt. Gordon wasn't quite smiling, but he somehow looked more relaxed than he had for days.

Kane grimaced and hurried from the room, trying to ignore how Gordon's happiness made his own heart feel just a tiny bit lighter.

It wasn't supposed to be this way, he told himself. He wasn't supposed to care about his apprentice's feelings. He just needed to get a grip on himself, and remember that emotions only got in the way. After tomorrow, he'd be back on track and totally in control of himself and his apprentice.


	11. Chapter 11

_Kane's Villa_

 _April 30_

 _1:37 AM_

The speed with which the fire had spread took Kane by surprise. One minute he had been bent over some paperwork, and the next minute all the smoke detectors had started going off at the far end of the building. Moments after that, his ceiling had caved in, knocking him down and trapping him.

He struggled wildly in an attempt to pull himself free, but the way the debris had pinned him, he couldn't get any leverage. He twisted around to look behind him, assessing how long it would take the crackling flames to reach his position, and sucked in a breath when he saw how much closer the fire had come since he had last looked.

He lay back down, and tried to calm his racing heart, not sure what to do next. He grimaced as he realized that he was experiencing two feelings he had thought he had conquered many years earlier – fear and uncertainty.

Forcing his mind away from that uncomfortable realization, he found himself wondering if Gordon had made it out safely. He hoped so. He tried to tell himself that the reason he hoped Gordon was safe was because of all the time and effort he had invested in training his apprentice…but he knew that that wasn't the real reason. Again, he stopped his thoughts before they could wander too far.

It was nearly impossible to stop thinking about the fire, though. Kane told himself not to look again, that it wouldn't do any good, but it was as if he couldn't help himself – after just a moment of arguing with himself, he glanced over his shoulder again to check on the progress of the flames.

Instead of the flames, though, his eyes fell on a black-clad figure stumbling his way, and his heart leapt with yet another foreign sensation – was that _joy_? He wondered how many other people over the years had felt the exact same way – hopelessly trapped, facing death…and then they saw International Rescue arrive, and they knew that everything was going to be all right.

Gordon had his arm across his face and was hunched over to avoid the heat of the fire; as he lowered his arm, his night-vision goggles shimmered with an orange glow, reflecting the light of the flames around him.

Kane's eyes moved swiftly over his apprentice, quickly assessing him – a habit he'd been falling into lately. Gordon appeared to be more or less fine, with the exception of a slightly dizzy weave in his walk and a trickle of blood down the side of his head. His face set in a determined mask, he hurried to Kane's side and began pulling away the debris.

Kane watched him, a question slowly building up within him. He didn't want to ask. He knew he _shouldn't_ ask. But the question was wrenched from him anyway. " _Why_?" he demanded harshly.

Gordon paused and looked down at him. He pushed the goggles back on his head, revealing eyes dark with a swirl of conflicting emotions. "Why am I saving you? Because I have to." He squared his shoulders and turned back to his work.

"No, you don't. You could leave me here to burn, and then you would be free. I'm sure it's what I would do, if I were in your place."

"Well, I'm not you," Gordon snapped. "And I hope I don't ever become anything like you!" He kept working while he talked, flinging debris aside with an angry energy. "When you first brought me here, you talked about how I was always comparing myself to my brothers, and how I always felt like I was coming up short. I've been thinking about that, and I have to say, okay, you were kind of right – but not for the reasons you said. I don't care that they like to fly and I don't. I don't care that they're all brilliant, and my grades were just average. The only thing I care about is the way I've watched them all live sacrificial lives for as long as I can remember. They've always gone above and beyond the call of duty to help people – and not just in IR! Helping people isn't just a job to my dad and brothers…it's their _life_ , and that's what I've always wanted my life to be too. That's why I joined IR – I want to help people, to be there for them like my family has always been there for me. Maybe I'm not always the best at doing my job, but I _try_ , and you can't just take that part of me away! If I see someone I can help – no matter what it costs me – I _have_ to do whatever I can to save them."

He flung aside one final small board, and then there was just one huge beam left across Kane's legs. Kane guessed that it probably weighed quite a bit more than Gordon did.

Gordon took a step back, breathing hard. He studied the beam for a moment, and then he looked at Kane, and suddenly his shoulders slumped and all the anger on his face drained away. The only thing left in his expressive eyes was a deep sadness. "No matter what it costs me," he repeated quietly, as if to himself.

He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then crouched down by the beam, wrapping his arms around the end. Slowly, grunting with the effort, he lifted the beam a couple inches, his breath beginning to come in short huffs as he strained against the weight.

Embers began drifting down all around them; Gordon flinched as they landed on his neck and shoulders, but he didn't drop the beam. Maintaining his focus, he lifted the long piece of wood an inch higher. "Move!" he gasped.

Kane tried to wiggle free, but the beam still pinned him firmly in place. "I can't!" he cried, failing to keep the desperation from his voice. Quickly tamping down his emotions, he spoke in a more modulated tone. "You tried," he said. "Give it up, Gordon."

Gordon looked straight into his eyes, and practically snarled. "Never!"

And then Kane watched in awe as his apprentice – no, his _hero_ – set his face and closed his eyes, turning his focus inward. Kane knew from his study of Gordon that the young man was tapping into the deepest part of his soul to find the strength he needed to complete the task he had set before himself. And once Gordon had decided to do something, he was unstoppable.

When Gordon opened his eyes, they become as hard as granite. "All right," he said firmly, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. "On three. One, two, three!"

Lean muscles bulged under black fabric as Gordon exploded upward with a hoarse yell, raising the massive beam to chest height and flinging it away, all in one smooth motion.

As soon as the weight was lifted from him, Kane forced his aching legs up to his chest and rolled clear, feeling the vibrations through the floor as the beam crashed down a split second later.

Gordon swayed for a moment, and then dropped to his knees, breathing hard. After a second, he wiped at the sweat on his forehead with the back of a shaking hand. Then he slowly pushed himself up to his feet and turned toward Kane.

His eyes were dull now, lacking even the tiniest spark of the real Gordon, as if he'd used up his entire soul saving Kane. "C'mon, we'd better get out of here," he said quietly. "The whole place could come down any time."

Kane let Gordon pull him to his feet. As they carefully picked their way out from the burning building, Kane held back a little, a grim expression slowly making its way across his face.

He saw only one option left to him.

He picked up a heavy stick and, just as they were stepping through the door into the crisp night air, he hit Gordon sharply across the back of the head.

Gordon tumbled unconscious onto the grassy lawn.


	12. Chapter 12

_New York City_

 _May 1_

 _7:02 AM_

Gordon drifted toward awareness, his nightmares slowly fading away into tattered remnants as he began to register a sensation he had never thought he would feel again.

There were fingers running through his hair.

And a voice, murmuring familiar, soothing words with a distinct cadence.

"Shh, it's just a nightmare. You're okay now. I'm right here."

Complete realization hit Gordon and he jerked to full, gasping awareness, sitting up and looking around wildly. It couldn't be true, could it?

But it was true. His searching eyes settled on a familiar figure sitting next to his bed. The face looked a little more worn than he remembered from their last meeting, and the blue eyes a little more tired, but the warm, dimpled smile was still there in full force.

"Scott," Gordon breathed.

"Hey, Kiddo," Scott said softly, a slight catch in his voice.

Gordon just stared back for a long moment, still not sure he believed what he was seeing. He forced words past a suddenly tight throat. "Is it really you?" he asked, half-seriously.

Pain flickered briefly through Scott's eyes. A little brother shouldn't have to ask that question. "Yeah, Gords, it's really me. And everyone else is here too, of course."

"But, but… _how?_ " Gordon couldn't find the words to complete his question, but Scott understood what he was asking.

"Kane called us a few hours ago and told us where to find you."

"He did?" Gordon said, startled. Why would Kane have reunited him with his family, if he was only going to take him away again? For that matter, why was Gordon in a normal hospital at all, instead of in Kane's med room?

"He left something for you," Scott said, his face darkening. He held up a small box. "We opened it, but we couldn't make any sense of it. This mean anything to you?"

Gordon took the box. It simply had "Gordon" printed across the top in Kane's neat handwriting. He cautiously lifted the lid, peeking inside.

And then his world froze – for a split second, his heart stopped beating, his lungs wouldn't pull in any air, and his vision tunneled. With shaking hands, he carefully reached into the box and pulled out a small remote control that was dominated by a large, red button.

There was a little slip of paper in the box too. All it said was, "I release you," but Gordon thought that the paper was entirely unnecessary – the remote control spoke far more eloquently than words ever could.

He suddenly realized that Scott had said his name several times, with increasing concern – and he noticed, for the first time, that the rest of his family had come in at some point and were standing quietly in the background, watching him.

He turned back to Scott, and the emotions welling up inside him crowded out all ability to think or to speak coherently. "It's – it's…"

Gordon had to pause and take a deep breath. He let it out slowly, and then he looked Scott full in the eyes, feeling a huge smile gradually creeping across his face. He said, "It means that I'm free now. I can go home with you guys, and Kane will never bother us again." He stopped, unable to get any more words out.

The look on Scott's face said that there had never been any possibility that Gordon _wasn't_ going home with them, but he still responded to the news with a gentle smile. "I'm glad to hear it, Kiddo," he said.

All at once, Gordon's emotions began to crumble. Not caring that he sounded like he was five years old again, he gave Scott a watery grin and asked for something he'd sorely missed in the preceding weeks. "Can I have a hug?"

Scott didn't bother to reply to that one; he just reached forward and wrapped his strong arms around Gordon's trembling figure. Gordon clung to him with all his strength, breathing in his oldest brother's scent and allowing himself a few moments to just _feel._ He felt fear and grief for what he had nearly lost. He felt the joy of reunion and the comfort of being surrounded by those he loved. Most of all, though, he felt an overwhelming sense of _freedom_.

There was a little chorus of cleared throats and shuffling feet in the background, and if there were a few tears shed in the next few minutes, all the Tracys present knew that they would never be mentioned.

 _Epilogue_

 _Tracy Island_

 _May 30_

 _9:35 PM_

Gordon had finished his swim a couple hours earlier, but he still sat on the edge of the pool, dangling his feet in the water as he watched the moon rise over the ocean. A warm, gentle breeze danced around him, carrying the scents of the island, and he closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a deep breath.

It had been a month since he had come home, and it had been a month full of ups and downs. Gordon would often be euphoric one day and then find himself completely, uncharacteristically depressed the next day.

He had found it oddly difficult to talk about his time with Kane, and had eventually ended up simply leaving his journal out on the counter where he knew his family would see it. He got a lot of random hugs later that day, which he was entirely okay with.

Going from packed days with Kane to the laid-back pace of Tracy Island, he found himself struggling to fill his time. As much as he loved swimming, there was only so much time he could spend in the pool.

He often ended up in the gym, working out or practicing the moves Kane had taught him. Occasionally Scott joined him, and that was fun, but strangely, Gordon had discovered that he preferred working in solitude.

Even Thunderbird Four couldn't capture his attention for long; her controls felt foreign in his hands the few times he took her out for a spin in the water around the island.

Worst of all, he had discovered that the klaxon no longer called to him. Whenever it sounded, he watched his brothers leave, and he felt absolutely no desire to go with them. He had tried to tell himself that he only felt that way because his father had told him he didn't want Gordon going on rescues until he had settled back in, but he knew that the real reason traced back to something deeper.

He thought that it went all the way back to the night he had rescued Kane from the burning villa…the night that he had given up his chance to make his escape, and instead had saved his captor's life.

That night was still tormenting him, and he thought he knew why. Despite how adamantly he'd asserted that there was a difference between Kane and him, the decision to save the criminal had actually been far more difficult than he had let on. There had been more than one moment when he had come so, so close to turning his back and just walking away, leaving the man to his fate.

But he hadn't. He'd stuck to what he knew to be right, even though it meant giving up his chance at freedom. It had ended up boiling down to an even deeper issue, though – it was as if, in the heat of the moment, he had given up his very _life_.

It was as if Kane had won.

Intellectually, Gordon knew that after a time he would have rallied and gone back to trying to escape Kane's control…but then Kane had made that choice for him too.

And as happy as Gordon was to be reunited with his family, he still couldn't shake the feeling that some vital part of him was missing – he just couldn't identify what it was.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Gordon turned and saw his father approaching. To Gordon's surprise, instead of pulling up a chair, Jeff took off his shoes and socks, rolled up his pants, and sat down next to Gordon with his feet in the water.

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

After a bit, Jeff prompted gently, "You've been out here a while, son." He gestured to the water. "Your feet are going to be all wrinkled."

Gordon smiled faintly, lifting his feet up above the surface and watching the moonlight turn the dripping water into liquid silver. Then he sighed and pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. "Dad, I _know_ it was the right thing to save Kane from that fire…so why do I feel almost like I wish I had left him there? He ended up letting me go after that, so it kind of doesn't matter…but what if he _hadn't_ let me go?" He growled in frustration, unable to find the words to voice what he was feeling.

Jeff was silent for a little while. "I don't know, Gordon," he said quietly. "What I do know is that I'm glad that you made the choice you did, because I know you, and I know that if you had let Kane die, the guilt would be eating you alive right now. Yes, it was wrong for Kane to kidnap you, to threaten our family, to force you to steal…and for those reasons, many people would not have blamed you for leaving him to die in that burning building. But, as the old saying goes, two wrongs don't make a right. You chose to respond to all of Kane's wrongs with a right, and for that reason, you should be proud of yourself. I know I'm proud of what you did that night."

Jeff wrapped an arm around Gordon's shoulders.

Gordon leaned into the hug. Until he'd been taken away from his family, he had never realized how much he _needed_ physical touch in his life. Still feeling unsettled, he picked absently at a flaky patch on his arm – he'd been away from the sun for so long that he had gotten a couple bad sunburns since returning to the tropical island. "I feel like Kane won, though," he whispered.

"Absolutely not!" Jeff snapped.

Gordon jumped, startled by the vehemence in his father's voice.

" _You_ won, Gordon," Jeff continued. "The gift of that remote control was a tactical retreat if I've ever seen one – it was an acknowledgement that you were a superior opponent, and one whom Kane could never hope to defeat." Jeff had sat back a little, but he kept a warm hand on Gordon's shoulder, and he had a gentle smile on his face as he continued more quietly, "This is just a hunch, Gordon, but I think that you were cracking the shell around Kane's humanity the entire time you were with him, and that the night you saved him was the final straw – it was in that moment that he realized you could never become like him…and that he didn't _want_ you to become like him. So he did the only thing he could – he let you go. By standing up for your beliefs no matter the cost, you _won_ , Gordon."

The silence rippled outward from Jeff's words, and in the quiet, Gordon began to feel strangely warm, a soft joy filling him up as he realized that his father was right.

He was home.

He was free.

He had _won_.

And then, suddenly, the happiness was a blazing light inside him, and he couldn't keep the grin off his face. The world around him seemed to sparkle in the moonlight as he turned and met his father's eyes. He wanted to shout, but he held his voice back and whispered instead, "Thanks, Dad." The words weren't enough, but he knew his father would understand.

Jeff just smiled back, his eyes alight with love. "Anytime, Kiddo."

Suddenly the klaxon sounded, and for the first time in the month since he'd been home, a great, tingling desire swept over Gordon, pulling him automatically to his feet. He was halfway across the pool deck before he remembered that he technically wasn't cleared to go on rescues yet.

He skidded to a halt and glanced back toward his father.

Jeff smiled at him. "Go, son," he said simply. "People need you."

Gordon's grin nearly split his face as he spun back around, and he finally couldn't hold it in any more – as he raced toward the lounge, he let out a whoop of pure joy.


End file.
